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HERBERT'S 



POETICAL WORKS. 



THE 



POETICAL WORKS 



OF 



GEORGE HERBERT 



WITH MEMOIR 



J. NICHOL, B.A. Oxon. 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW 



EDITED BY 

CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE 



LONDON 

CHARLES GRIFFIN AND COMPANY 

10 stationers' hall court 
1865 




^ i THE LIFE AND POETRY 



OF 



GEORGE HERBERT. 




IV-TT^ 



f?HE period which elapsed between the era of 
Elizabeth and the Commonwealth is a link 
between two great epochs of our literature. 
Shakspeare belongs to the former, Milton to 
the latter. The reign of James saw the last of 
the old dramatists, the first of that other race of 
daring spirits who were destined to play a part 
in establishing and in maintaining for a time a 
new order of things. It is connected with the 
preceding reign by the life and works of the 
great English lord of philosophy and law, and 
the death of the great English captain who 
wrote the History of the World ; but Bacon and 
Raleigh were in tone and character essentially 
Elizabethan. They belonged to a period of 
struggle and conquest, of bold achievements 



vi The Life and Poetry of 

and large designs, when, like the ship on the frontis- 
piece of the Instant atio Magna, men's minds were 
passing between the pillars of Hercules, and making 
their way from the narrow into the broad seas. They 
were inspired by the enthusiasm and magnanimity 
which had tracked the stars, and discovered new con- 
tinents, and broken the fetters of religious freedom, 
and laid foundations for future science in the sixteenth 
century. The first quarter of the seventeenth saw a 
lull between storms — comparative peace abroad and 
quiet at home, when Church and State seemed to rest 
firmly on the basis of a provisional settlement, and 
the smouldering elements of discord only made them- 
selves felt in the outbreak of an occasional and easily 
suppressed conspiracy. If the literature belonging to 
this period is tamer than that of the preceding era, 
there is an air of repose about it which has a charm of 
its own, and which is seen alike in the two opposite 
styles by which the poetry of the time is mainly repre- 
sented — in the graceful lyrics of Herri ck, and Love- 
lace, and Suckling, in the more sombre fancies of 
Donne and Crashaw, and the psalmody of George 
Herbert. Herbert, the first and the best of our purely 
religious poets, belongs both by character and date to 
this era. Five years after his birth, Shakspeare was 
an actor in one of Ben Jonson's plays ; in the year when 
Milton took his degree at Cambridge, our author died. 
He is still pre-eminently the laureate of the Church of 
England, and he was so at a time when she first began 
to feel herself securely established, " double-moated" 
between the valley and the hills, and unsuspicious of 



George Herbert. vii 

the storms to come. Before he lived, the divergence 
between the Anglo-Catholic and Evangelical — the High 
and Low sections of the Church, had begun to manifest 
itself in the first murmurs of the strife that was, in the 
succeeding age, to rend her asunder ; but during his 
life they had grown fainter, or he was unconscious of 
them. Next to Christianity itself, the Church, the 
whole Church, and nothing but the Church is his 
anchorage ; round her service and doctrine his whole 
thoughts circulate, to her advancement all his aspira- 
tions tend, and the Puritanic purity of his morals is 
made to fit in harmoniously with the Anglicanism of 
his creed. Gentler than Milton, though not half so 
great, Herbert differed in many ways from his immortal 
successor, and most of all by the fact of his implicit 
faith in established forms. 

Izaak Walton's memoir of him presents us with 
one of the most pleasing pictures in the annals of bio- 
graphy. Had the poet's genius been less, and the 
Temple of verse he reared passed away as quietly as 
it rose, this record of a life, like his own " Sweet day, 
so cool, so calm, so bright," would have preserved the 
memory of his good example. No one ever lived to 
whom those words of a recent singer could more 
appropriately have been applied than to " holy George 
Herbert :"— 

" Better to have the poet's heart than brain, 
To feel than write : but better far than both, 
To be on earth a poem of God's making." 

He was born on the 3d of April 1593, in a castle 
near Montgomery, of an old and noble family, who 



viii The Life and Poetry of 

traced their descent back to Herbert, Earl of Pem- 
broke, under Edward IV. This castle was levelled in 
the civil wars, to the earth, exclaims loyal Walton, 
" which was too good to bury those wretches that were 
the cause of it." George was the fifth of a family of 
seven distinguished sons and three daughters, the 
eldest of whom was ambassador to the French Court, 
under King James, and afterwards Lord Herbert of 
Cherbury, the author of a well-written historical sketch, 
and a book entitled, De Veritate ftrout Distinguiiur 
a Revelatione, which has become famous from an 
imaginary revelation narrated in the preface. It is a 
strange chance by which this defence of Deism has 
divided with the author of "The Temple" the honour of 
the name of Herbert, and can scarcely fail to suggest 
an analogous contrast between the works of two illus- 
trious brothers of our own time. George had only 
reached his fourth year when his father died : the rest 
of his childhood passed a in a sweet content" under 
the care of a mother whose parts and accomplishments 
were in every way w r orthy of her charge. Lady Her- 
bert accompanied her eldest son to Oxford, and re- 
mained with him there four years, when we hear "her 
great and harmless wit, her cheerful gravity, and her 
obliging behaviour gained her an acquaintance and 
friendship with most of any eminent worth that were 
at that time in or near the University," with the poet 
Donne, among others, who was then fighting the battle 
of life uphill with the burden of a large family. She 
helped him with purse and counsel, and is the heroine 
of several of his verses. Subsequently she married a 



George Herbert. ix 

brother of the Earl of Danby, and years after, Walton 
saw the Dean of St Paul's weeping while he preached 
the funeral sermon over his former benefactress. 

Meanwhile the future author of " The Temple" was, 
at the age of twelve, transferred to Westminster School, 
where, we are informed, " the beauties of his pretty 
behaviour and wit shined, and became so eminent and 
lovely, in this his innocent age, that he seemed to be 
marked out for piety, and to become the care of Heaven 
and of a particular good angel to guard and guide 
him." If he was made " perfect in the learned lan- 
guages " during the three years he remained there, we 
must attribute a wonderful efficacy to his previous 
home instruction ; but no doubt he was a fair scholar, 
according to the scholarship of the time. In 1608 he 
was sent, on the foundation, to Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge, where, for the three years that intervened up 
to the time of his taking his degree of Bachelor, he 
remained under the charge of Dr Nevil, Master of the 
College and Dean of Canterbury, a sympathetic and 
judicious guardian, who "cherished his studies and 
confirmed his gentleness." In the first year of his 
residence he sent to his mother the sonnet beginning, 
" My God, where is that ancient heat to Thee ? " which 
evinces decided precocity of power already turned into 
a religious channel. Throughout his course Herbert 
was a strict student, and carried his love of retirement 
to an excess which he afterwards regretted. Almost 
his only diversion was in the practice of music, which 
became and continued to be his ruling secular passion 
— if, indeed, it can be called a secular passion. When 



x The Life mid Poetry oj 

the youth of his age were seeking relief from toil in 
exercise or frivolity or riot, the future poet sat alone 
in his chamber, tuning his instrument and his mind 
to those harmonies of which he sings in the true spirit 
of a sacred minstrel : — 

" Sweetest of sweets, I thank you : when displeasure 

Did through my body wound my mind, 
You took me thence , and in your house of pleasure 

A dainty lodging me assign'd. 
Now I in you without a body move, 

Rising and falling with your wings : 
We both together sweetly live and love." 

His only assignable faults seem to have been an exag- 
geration of reserve, approaching to hauteur, some pride 
of family, and a love of fine dress, which biography 
shews to be less inconsistent with nobility of character 
than popular talk would indicate. In 1615 Herbert 
became Master of Arts and Major Fellow of his Col- 
lege ; in 1 619 he was elected Orator for the Uni- 
versity, in which place he continued for eight years. 
One of his own letters gives us an account of the 
duties of his office : — " The Orator's place is the finest 
in the University, though not the gainfulest : yet that 
will be about £30 per annum," — (worth much more of 
our money ;) " but the commodiousness is beyond the 
revenue, for the Orator writes all the University letters, 
makes all the orations, be it to king, prince, or what- 
ever comes to the University. To requite these pains, 
he takes place next the Doctors, is at all their assem- 
blies and meetings, and sits above the Proctors ; is 
regent or non-regent at his pleasure, and suchlike 
gaynesses which will please a young man well." An 



George Herbert. xi 

innocent love of" suchlike gaynesses" is easily forgiven 
in a youth of twenty-two, though in his later years it 
seems to have become matter of reproach to Herbert's 
sensitive conscience. Some time after his election, 
when James presented his book entitled Basilicon 
Doron to the University, the young Orator discharged 
the duty of acknowledging the gift in a Latin letter, 
after the fashion of the time, " full of conceits " and 
flattery, " suited to the genius of the king," who asked 
to be informed of the author's name, and took him 
under his patronage. The meanest of the Stuarts 
had a few conspicuous merits. He knew how to ap- 
preciate scholarship and requite with his favour the 
tributes of learned men ; and we need not wonder if 
he who commanded the adulation of Lord Verulam 
could enlist the esteem of a poet who never quite 
forgot to be a courtier. Herbert comes before us next 
as a controversialist. When Andrew Melville lam- 
pooned the ceremonies and government of the English 
Church, the rising Cambridge author distinguished 
himself by the publication of his Angli Musce Re- 
sponses ice, which- was reckoned to be a vigorous and 
effective refutation of his Scottish adversary, and in- 
creased his favour with the Court. Meanwhile he had 
contracted other and nobler friendships with Donne, 
and Walton, and the great Chancellor himself, who sent 
the poet several manuscripts to revise, and honoured 
him by the dedication of a translation of the Psalms. 

To this date belongs a remarkable letter written to 
his mother in her sickness, in which, in a true vein of 
Christian humility, he sets forth the temptations of 



xii The Life and Poetry of 

prosperity, and the scriptural consolations of misfor- 
tune : — " I never find, Blessed be the rich, or, Blessed 
be the noble, but, Blessed be the meek, and Blessed 
be the poor, and Blessed be the mourners, for they 
shall be comforted ! And yet, O God, most carry 
themselves so as if they not only not desired, but 
even feared to be blessed!" Herbert having given 
himself to the study of the modern languages, had now 
mastered Italian, Spanish, and French, and was aspir- 
ing to a State secretaryship. He followed the king — 
who had presented him with a handsome sinecure, for- 
merly held by Sir Philip Sidney, and worth £120 a-year 
— so constantly, that he was seldom seen at Cambridge 
except in his sovereign's train during a royal progress. 
During this period, Walton tells us he enjoyed his 
genteel humour for clothes and court-like company, 
and left Mr Thorndike to manage his orator's place. 
The death of two of his most powerful friends, the 
Duke of Richmond and the Marquis of Hamilton, 
followed by that of James himself, combined, with his 
mother's counsel, and an increasing infirmity of body, 
to withdraw his 'mind — perhaps fortunately for his 
fame — from this line of life, and turn it to holy orders. 
To this crisis of his fortune he alludes in one of his 
verses — 

" Whereas my birth and spirit rather took 
The way that takes the town, 
Thou didst betray me to a lingering book, 
And wrapt me in a gown." 

For some time he lived in retirement with a friend in 
Kent, and, on his return to London, proclaimed his 



George Herbert. xiii 

resolution to labour to make the name of priest hon- 
ourable by consecrating his learning and abilities be- 
fore God's altar. In July 1626, he was appointed Pre- 
bendary of Layton Ecclesia, in the Diocese of Lincoln, 
and county of Huntingdon. Finding the parish church 
in a ruinous condition, he set himself to raise a subscrip- 
tion, and had it repaired and decorated with exquisite 
taste. In 1627, he was seized with a severe fit of ague, 
to remove which he went for change of air to Wood- 
ford, in Essex, where his brother Sir Henry and other 
friends were then living. After a year's residence there, 
during which he gave himself up to " the cleanness of 
sweet abstinence," he was cured; but his over-strict 
regime stimulated a tendency to consumption, which 
took the place of his other ailment. He next removed 
to Dauntsey, in Wiltshire, where pure air, rest, and 
moderate exercise combined to effect at least a tempo- 
rary restoration of health. In 1627, on his mother's 
death, Herbert had resigned his oratorship. In April 
1630, he was inducted into the parsonage of Bemerton, 
about two miles from Salisbury. His biographers tell 
us a story about his induction, how that he was left 
in the church, according to custom, to toll the bell, 
and remaining there beyond the usual time, was found 
lying prostrate in prayer on the steps of the altar, over- 
whelmed by the responsibility and magnitude of his 
charge. Shortly before, he had made a romantic mar- 
riage with Jane, one of the nine daughters of Mr Charles 
Danvers of Bainton, Wiltshire, a lady whom he had 
scarcely seen. Her father had long desired the con- 
nexion, and spoken so much of the one to the other, 



xiv The L ife and Poetry of 

that they were ready to fall in love before they met. 
We give the sequel in Walton's own words : — u Some 
friends to both parties procured their meeting, at which 
time a mutual affection entered into both their hearts, 
as a conqueror enters into a surprised city ; and love 
having got such possession, governed and made there 
such laws and resolutions as neither party was able to 
resist, insomuch that she changed her name into Her- 
bert the third day after this first interview. This haste 
might in others be thought a love-frenzy, or worse; 
but it was not, for they had wooed so like princes as to 
have select proxies, such as were true friends to both 
parties, such as understood Mr Herbert's and her tem- 
per of mind, and also their estates, so well before this 
interview, that the suddenness was justifiable by the 
strictest rules of prudence ; and the more, because it 
proved so happy to both parties, for the eternal Lover 
of mankind made them happy in each other's mutual 
and equal affections and compliance." This amiable 
wife survived him, and proved herself, during all his 
life, an humble helpmate in his Master's service. From 
the moment George Herbert resigned his sword and 
silk for the black robe and cassock, he seemed to feel 
that he had clad himself in the armoury of the Lord. 
u I now look back," he said to his friend Mr Woodnot, 
" upon my aspiring thoughts, and think myself more 
happy than if I had attained what then I so ambi- 
tiously thirsted for." He had found his fortune in find- 
ing himself ; and learning to sing — 

" Perhaps great places and Thy praise 
Do not so well agree," 



George Herbert. xv 

he slid into the course of his natural work like a stream 
finding its bed. 

Inaugurating his duties, as before, by repairing and 
beautifying the church and parsonage, he proceeded 
to lay down for his own guidance a set of rules, em- 
bodied in his little book entitled the " Country Parson," 
to which his own behaviour supplied a consistent com- 
mentary. His first sermon was written and delivered 
in the somewhat florid style of eloquence which cha- 
racterises many of his verses, but his teaching soon 
became more simple and direct. He devoted himself 
to explain the full meaning of the ceremonial laid down 
by his Church, to shew the relation of the whole liturgy, 
the appointed psalms and hymns, the fast and feast 
days of the year, to the historical facts of Christianity 
and the aspirations of Christian life, aiming to make 
every day of worship a part of that reasonable service 
which is alone acceptable unto the Lord. Regularly 
on Sunday afternoons he used to catechise his flock. 
Twice every day, at ten and four, he went with all his 
family to " prayers, the Church's banquet." He taught 
his parishioners the spirit of his line, " Pray with the 
most, for where most pray is heaven," and imbued 
them with a share of his own reverence, so that they 
let their plough rest when his saints' bell rung, and 
came back to their toil the happier for his blessing. 
Music still " haunted him like a passion," and he gave 
the hours of his recreation to the lute or viol, and the 
composition of hymns and anthems. Though his 
temper always leant to // Penseroso, he used also to 
take part in lighter concerts, holding that " religion 



xvi The Life and Poetry of 

does not banish mirth, but only moderates and sets 
rules to it." Twice a-week he went to Salisbury to 
hear the organ pealing down the aisles of the great 
cathedral, and find a heaven upon earth, with "the 
sound of glory ringing in his ears." In the ordinary 
relations of week-day life his career was marked by 
consistent and self-sacrificing beneficence. The stories 
told of his intercourse with his people shew his desire 
to enter into their affairs, to make them unlock their 
hearts and feel at home with him. When a poor 
woman, coming to disburden herself of some cares, 
was so confused and embarrassed that she could not 
speak, he took her by the hand and told her not to be 
afraid, that he would hear her with patience, and, if 
possible, relieve her necessities, and then listening to 
her story gave such comfortable counsel that she went 
home praising God. On another occasion, Walton 
tells us, in a walk to Salisbury, " he saw a poor man, 
with a poorer horse that was fallen under his load ; 
they were both in distress, and needed present help, 
which Mr Herbert perceiving, put off his canonical 
coat, and helped the poor man to unload, and after to 
load his horse. The poor man blessed him for it, and 
he blessed the poor man ; and was so like the good 
Samaritan that he gave him money to refresh both 
himself and his horse, and told him that if he loved 
himself he should be merciful to his beast. Thus he 
left the poor man ; and at his coming to his musical 
friends at Salisbury they began to wonder that Mr 
George Herbert, which used to be so trim and clean, 
came into that company so soiled and discomposed, 



George Herbert. xvii 

but he told them the occasion. And when one of the 
company told him he had disparaged himself by so 
dirty an employment, his answer was, that ' the 
thought of what he had done would prove music to 
him at midnight.' " 

To the poor he was bountiful to the verge of impru- 
dence ; devoted to his family, to all men just, fervent 
in spirit, serving the Lord, his ways were ways of plea- 
santness, and all his paths were peace. 

Herbert had not completed the third year of his 
labours when it became evident that they were draw- 
ing to a close. His health had never been robust ; in 
that "long and bony face," which "content and care 
did seem to equally divide," men might have seen the 
trace of those afflictions under the weight of which his 
verse so often makes a plaintive though submissive 
moan. He was wont to say his wit was like a pen- 
knife in too narrow a sheath, too sharp for his body. 
Anxiety, attendant on duties which he had undertaken 
with overstrained zeal, may have helped to foster those 
seeds of consumption which were already planted in 
his constitution. In 1633 the disease crept on apace : 
first he was obliged to read prayers only in the small 
chapel adjoining his house, a little later he was con- 
strained to consign even this duty into other hands. 
Later still he was found by Mr Duncan — a visitor sent 
by his friend Nicholas Farrar — lying in his bed weak 
and worn, but " with majesty and humility so recon- 
ciled in his look and behaviour as begot an awful 
reverence for his person." Five days afterwards the 
same gentleman returning found him still further re- 



xviii The Life and Poetry of 

duced, when, having spoken of his own peace of mind 
and readiness for death, Herbert placed a volume in 
his hands, with these words, " Sir, I pray deliver this 
little book to my dear brother Farrar, and tell him he 
shall find in it a picture of the many spiritual conflicts 
that have passed betwixt God and my soul, before I 
could subject mine to the will of Jesus my master, in 
whose service I have now found perfect freedom. De- 
sire him to read it, and then, if he can think it may 
turn to the advantage of any dejected poor soul, let it 
be made public ; if not, let him burn it, for I and it are 
less than the least of God's mercies." Three weeks 
passed before his death, during which he was waited 
on by Mr Woodnot, and continued to receive visits 
from the neighbouring clergy, entertaining them with 
noble and godly conversation. All the joys he had 
once valued had passed him like a dream ; he was 
about to make his bed in the dark, but he was, he said, 
prepared for it. On the Sunday before his death he 
rose, and calling for one of his instruments, after re- 
peating a verse, tuned it and sung — 

"The Sundays of man's life, 
Threaded together on time's string, 
Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
Of the eternal glorious King. 
On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope j 
Blessings are plentiful and rife, 

More plentiful than hope." 

Thus, we are told, "he continued meditating and 
praying and rejoicing till the day of his death," when 
he breathed his last, evincing to the end the courage 
of a true man and the humility of a Christian saint. 



George Herbert. 



XIX 




HE Temple/' which Herbert had placed in 

Mr Duncan's hands, was the repository of 

verses gradually accumulated during his 

K ( residence at Bemerton, the silent labour of 

a TyV his life, a monument reared, as has been sug- 

|'M gested, as quietly as that other Temple of 

' <A \ Jerusalem ; we may rather say, it grew up, 

: gp g* like the fabled walls of Thebes, to the music 

[P@ of his lyre, Mr Farrar superintended the 

publication of the volume ; and when Izaak 

Walton wrote the author's life, 20,000 copies 

had been already circulated. 

The collection of poems entitled " The 
Temple," which, with the prose treatise, " A 
Country Parson," "The Church Militant," 
and a few minor verses in English and 
Latin, completes the list of our author's 
works, embraces an almost indefinite variety 
of theme and measure, from the slender notes 
of the flute to the full tones of the organ bass ; 
yet it is pervaded by a unity of thought and 
purpose which justifies the single name. 
Those poems are a series of hymns and medi- 
tations within the walls of an English church. 
They are Church music crystallised. There 
is a speciality about them which continually 
i. « recalls the circumstances of the writer. " The 
J& Temple," as Coleridge remarked, will always 
be read with fullest appreciation by those who share 
the poet's devotion to the Dear Mother whose praises 




xx The Life and Poetry of 

he has undertaken to celebrate. The verses on 
" Easter" and " Lent," on " Baptism" and " Commu- 
nion," on " Church Monuments" and " Music," seem 
most directly to address the worshippers in that flock 
of which he was so good a shepherd, whose affec- 
tions are entwined around his Church, who love to 
linger on the associations of her festivals, the rubrics 
of her creed, and the formularies of her service — to feel 
themselves under the shadow of the old cathedrals — to 
draw allegories from the fantasies of their fretted stone 
— to watch the light flicker through the painted glass 
on marble tombs, and listen to the anthems throbbing 
through the choir. Yet there is in the author and in 
his work catholicity enough to give his volume a uni- 
versal interest, and make his prayer and praise a fit 
expression of Christian faith under all varieties of form. 
The defects of the book — those which remove it, as a 
whole, from the first class of poetry — are those which 
are peculiar to the writer and his Church and time ; its 
excellences, which raise it to the front of the second 
rank, result from an exercise of those qualities which 
Herbert shares with all great religious poets. Those 
defects are serious, and have emboldened depreciatory 
critics to say that the author of "The Temple" has 
been handed down to us more by his life than his work. 
Foremost among them is a want of condensation, 
which has led the poet into frequent repetition of the 
same ideas under slightly altered phraseology. Some- 
times, even within the limits of the same poem, he 
turns a thought over till we are tired of it ; and to read 
through his book continuously is no easy task. It has 



George Herbert. xxi 

been said correctly that Herbert has more genius than 
taste; and his deficiency in the latter quality, com- 
bined with a grotesque vein of allegory which belonged 
to the time, has not unfrequently, as in the verse en- 
titled " Jesu," led the most reverent of men into con- 
ceits which seem to approach irreverence. The ex- 
tremes of levity and pious word-worship meet now and 
then in a devout pun. There are many instances in 
which we cannot help complaining that too much is 
made of little things, as in a pre-Raphaelite picture 
the whole effect is apt to be sacrificed to microscopic 
detail ; so that we think of " The Temple" rather in 
connexion with the mosaic-work of Wilton Chapel, 
than the neighbouring and more stately grandeur of 
the severe majestic Salisbury. Herbert is prone, by 
his own admission, to overlay his matter with far- 
fetched, and sometimes incongruous imagery. His 

" Thoughts begin to burnish, sprout, and swell, 
Curling with metaphors a plain intention ; 
Decking the sense as if it were to sell ; " 

so that we are apt to think less of the lesson than of 
the quaint mannerism of the words in which it is read 
to us. Though in his higher flights he often succeeds 
in "wedding noble music unto noble words," the poet- 
musician is not, on the whole, a musical poet ; he has 
certainly tried more varieties of measure than he has 
mastered. If to this we add that Herbert almost wholly 
wants the element of humour, a defect which shews 
itself in such lines as — 

"All Solomon's sea of brass and world of stone 
Is not so dear to Thee as one good groan," 



xxii The Life and Poetry of 

we shall be at no loss to explain why the great and 
deserved popularity of "The Temple" is, compara- 
tively speaking, restricted to those masterpieces of its 
structure, with which all readers are or ought to be 
familiar. 

The best poems in the volume, as " The Church 
Porch," " The Agony," " Sin," " Faith," " Love," " The 
Temper," " Employments," " Church Music," " Sun- 
day," "The World," "Lent," "Virtue," "The Pearl," 
" Man," " Mortification," " The British Church," "The 
Quip," " The Size," and many more, in themselves 
make up a treasury of sacred song whose price is be- 
yond rubies. They are more like modern psalms than 
any other poems we know. Like those older and 
grander voices, they, too, have their place by the way- 
side of the Christian life — rousing, warning, cheering, 
comforting, sorrowing and rejoicing with us as we go. 
Like church windows they have a double aspect ; we 
may look in through them from without on the writer's 
heart, and see him as a priest and man struggling like 
ourselves with doubts and fears, but with " a face not 
fearing light," and a will well bent to do his Master's 
work ; we may look out through them from within on the 
world as seen with the poet's eye — a fair round world 
of light and shade, overarched by clouds and stars. 

The asceticism of Herbert's character appears in his 
verse. He does not think, with Glaucon, that we can 
"make the best of both worlds." To him it seems 
that to be full in both " is more than God was, who 
was hungry here." He constantly opposes to passion 
the laws of temperance and authority. With him 



George Herbert. xxiii 

" Life is a business, not good cheer, 
Ever in wars." 

He is fond of dwelling on the dangers of good com- 
pany, and the folly that lurks in a disdain of rule. 
Three lines in " The Church Porch," so full of that 
good strong sense which is seen even in his collection 
of Proverbs, are the refrain of his leading counsels :— 

" Chase brave employments with a naked sword 
Throughout the world. Fool not, for all may have, 
If they dare choose, a glorious life or grave." 

Almost the only thing of which he is intolerant is fri- 
volity : — 

" Laugh not too much ; the witty man laughs least, 
For wit is news only to ignorance." 

And indifference — 

"Who say 'I care not' — those I give for lost." 

Yet he was no sour ascetic — witness his love of music 
and the tender grace of some of his verses, as " Peace'* 
or " Virtue," which Shelley might have written. He 
loved the beauty as much as he revered the solemnity 
of his religion, and was wont to wander about " the 
fruitful beds and borders in God's rich garden," as well 
as to kneel in awe beneath the thunders of Sinai. 

The commencement of the lines entitled " Man's 
Medley," shews how thoroughly he was alive to the 
sweet influences, the pleasant sights and sounds of 
nature. He always wished to have a " pleasing pre- 
sence," and held 

"All worldly joys go less 
To the one joy of doing kindnesses." 

This love of practical benevolence was one side of 



xxiv The Life and Poetry of 

his nature ; another was the deep spirit of devotion 
and evangelical piety which comes out in those pieces 
which are more properly prayers set to music, and in 
the doctrinal part of his poetry. 

Herbert was altogether greater as a man than as an 
artist ; but some of his lines seemed inspired by a 
deeper flow of imagination than the rest, and will bear 
comparison with the best of all but our greatest poets. 
What could be more suggestive than this image ? — 

" Successive nights, like rolling waves, 
Convey them quickly who are bound for death." 

What summary of man's ideal more complete than 
this ?— 

"A grain of glory mix'd with humbleness." 

Or what better express his relation to God than ? — 

"I am but finite, yet Thine infinitely." 

Or where have we more gracefully condensed the 
duty of submission than here ? — 

" Yet take thy way ; for sure thy way is best, 
Stretch or contract me thy poor debtor. 
This is but tuning of my breast 
To make the music better." 

Herbert's poem on " Man" is his masterpiece. The 
most philosophic as well as the most comprehensive of 
his writings, it stands by itself, and has enlisted the 
admiration even of those furthest removed from him 
in creed, and cast, and time. Embodying his recog- 
nition of the mysterious relationship of the chief of 
created beings to his Creator and to the universe, it 
seems to anticipate centuries of discovery. The faculty 
which can range from heaven to earth, from earth to 



George Herbert. xxv 

heaven, discerns the hidden links by which the world 
is woven together, and poetry prophesies what science 
proves. In the microcosm of man — 

" East and west touch — the poles do kiss, 
And parallels meet." 

Man, with Herbert, is everything, "a tree," "a beast, 
yet is, or should be more ; " he is — 

"all symmetry, 
Full of proportions, one limb to another, 
And all to all the world besides." 

Claiming brotherhood with moons and tides, " in little, 
all the sphere," everything ministers to his service : — 

" For us the winds do blow, 
The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow." 

Clenching the whole into one grand line, the poet 
exclaims : — 

" Man is one world, and hath 
Another to attend him." 

And then from the open vault of day he turns again 
reverently towards the temple, crying, — 

" Since, then, my God, thou hast 
So brave a palace built, oh, dwell in it." 

This, which was the prayer and effort of his life, was 
surely in full measure granted to George Herbert. 
Nothing arrests us more than his perfect honesty. 
There is no writing for effect in his pages ; as we turn 
them we feel ourselves in the presence of a man speak- 
ing out of the fulness of his heart, and carried away 
into a higher air by the sustaining power of his own 
incessant aspirations. 

Herbert can scarcely be called a lesser Milton. 



xxvi The Life and Poetry \ &>c. 

His Gothic temple has nothing of the classic grace 
and grandeur of the hand that reared the great dome 
of our English Epic on smooth pillars of everlasting 
verse. He breathes rather the spirit of the author 
of the Olney Hymns; but Herbert's was a more 
cheerful faith than Cowper's, and the brightness of 
God's countenance seemed ever to shine upon him 
as he went on his way singing to the gates of the 
celestial city. 














CONTENTS. 



THE TEMPLE. 



HE Church Porch, 
Superliminare, 
The Altar, 
The Sacrifice, 
The Thanksgiving, 
The Reprisal, 
The Agony, 
The Sinner, 
Good Friday, 
Redemption, 
Sepulchre, 
Easter, . 
Easter Wings, 
Holy Baptism, 
Nature, . 
Sin, 

Affliction, 
Repentance, 
Faith, . 
Prayer, 



PAGE 

I 

17 
17 
18 
28 

30 
30 
31 
32 

33 
34 
35 
36 
37 
38 
39 
39 
42 

43 
45 



XXV111 



Contents. 



'OLY COMMUNION, 
Antiphon, 
Love, 

The Temper, 
The Temper, 
Jordan, . 
Employment, 
The Holy Scriptures, 
Whitsunday, 
Grace, . 
Praise, . 
Affliction, 
Matins, . 
Sin, 

Even-song, 
Church Monuments, 
Church Music, . 
Church Lock and Key, 
The Church Floor. 
The Windows, . 
Trinity Sunday, 
Content, 
The Quiddity, 
Humility, 
Frailty, . 
Constancy, 
Affliction, 
The Star, 



Contents. 



xxix 



UNDAY, 

Avarice, 
Anagram, 
To all Angels and Saints, 
Employment, . 
Denial, . 
Christmas, 
Ungratefuluess, 
Sighs and Groans, 
The World, 
Colossians iii. 3, 
Vanity, . 
Lent, 
Virtue, . 
The Pearl, 
Affliction, 
Man, . 
Antiphon, 
Unkindness, 
Life, 

Submission, 
Justice, . 

Charms and Knots, 
Affliction, 
Mortification, . 
Decay, 
Misery, . 
/ Jordan, . 



Contents. 



JjRAYER, 
Obedience, 
Conscience, 
Sion, 
Home, . 
The British Church, 
The Quip, 
Vanity, . 
The Dawning, 
Jesu, . 
Business, 
Dialogue, 
Dulness, 
Love-joy, 
Providejice, 
Hope, . 
Sin's Round, 
Time, . 
Gratefulness, 
Peace, . 
Confession, 
Giddiness, 
The Bunch of Grapes, 
Love Unknown, 
Man's Medley, . 
The Storm, 
Paradise, 
The Method, . 



Contents. 



XXXI 



^IVINITY, 

Ephesians iv. 30, 
J^ The Family, 
The Size, 
Artillery, 

Church Rents and Schisms, 
Justice, . 
The Pilgrimage, 
The Hold-fast, . 
Complaining, . 
The Discharge,. 
Praise, . 
An Offering, . 
Longing, 
The Bag, 
The Jews, 
The Collar, 
The Glimpse, .. 
Assurance, 
The Call, 

Clasping of Hands, 
Praise, . 
Joseph's Coat, . 
The Pulley, 
The Priesthood, 
The Search, 
Grief, . 
The Cross, 



XXX11 



Contents. 



/H© 






()Z 



HE Flower, 
Dotage, 
The Son, 
A True Hymn, , 
The Answer, 
A Dialogue-anthem, 
The Water-course, 
Self-condemnation, 
Bitter-sweet, 
The Glance, 

The Twenty-third Psalm, 
Mary Magdalen, 
Aaron, . 
The Odour, 
The Foil, 
The Forerunners, 
The Rose, 
M9 Discipline, 

The Invitation, 
The Banquet, 
The Posy, 
A Parody, 
The Elixir, 
A Wreath, 
Death, . 
Doomsday, 
Judgment, 
Heaven, 





THE DEDICATION. 

^JORD, my first fruits present themselves to thee ; 
Yet not mine neither ; for from thee they came, 
And must return. Accept of them and me, 
And make us strive, who shall sing best thy Name. 
Turn their eyes hither, who shall make a gain : 
Theirs, who shall hurt themselves or me, refrain. 




THE TEMPLE 

AND OTHER POEMS. 




THE CHURCH PORCH. 

Perirrhanterium. 

^^WHOU, whose sweet youth and early hopes en- 
hance 
Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a 

treasure, 
Hearken unto a Verser, who may chance 
Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure : 
A verse may find him, who a Sermon flies, 
And turn delight into a Sacrifice. 6 

Beware of lust ; it doth pollute and foul 
fi\V§ Whom God in Baptism wash'd with his own blood : 
n v|M It blots the lesson written in thy soul ; 
i|§ The holy lines cannot be understood. 
ft How dare those eyes upon a Bible look, n 

Much less towards God, whose lust is all their book ! 

Wholly abstain, or wed. Thy bounteous Lord 

Allows thee choice of paths : take no by-ways ; 

But gladly welcome what he doth afford ; 

Not grudging, that thy lust hath bounds and stays. 
Continence hath his joy : weigh both ; and so 
If rottenness have more, let heaven go. 18 

A 



The Temple. 

7 F God had laid all common, certainly 

Man would have been th' encloser ; but since now 
God hath impaled us, on the contrary- 
Man breaks the fence, and every ground will plough. 

O what were man, might he himself misplace ! 

Sure to be cross he would shift feet and face. 24 

Drink not the third glass, which thou canst not tame, 
When once it is within thee ; but before 
May' st rule it, as thou list : and pour the shame 
Which it would pour on thee, upon the floor. 
It is most just to throw that on the ground, 
Which would throw me there, if I keep the round. 30 

He that is drunken may his mother kill 

Big with his sister : he hath lost the reins, 

Is outlaw' d by himself : all kind of ill 

Did with his liquor slide into his veins. 
The drunkard forfeits Man, and doth divest 
All worldly right, save what he hath by beast. 

HALL I, to please another's wine-sprung mind, 
Lose all mine own ? God hath given me a measure 
Short of his can, and body ; must I find 
A pain in that, wherein he finds a pleasure ? 
Stay at the third glass : if thou lose thy hold, 
Then thou art modest, and the wine grows bold. 42 

If reason move not Gallants, quit the room 
(All in a shipwreck shift their several way) ; 
Let not a common ruin thee entomb : 
Be not a beast in courtesy, but stay, 

Stay at the third cup, or forego the place. 

Wine above all things doth God's stamp deface. 48 




The Church Porch. 3 

Yet, if thou sin in wine or wantonness. 

Boast not thereof; nor make thy shame thy glory. 

Frailty gets pardon by submissiveness ; 

But he that boasts, shuts that out of his story : 
He makes flat war with God, and doth defy 
With his poor clod of earth the spacious sky. 54 

Take not His name, who made thy mouth, in vain : 

It gets thee nothing, and hath no excuse. 

Lust and wine plead a pleasure, avarice gain : 

But the cheap swearer through his open sluice 
Lets his soul run for naught, as little fearing : 
Were I an Epicure, I could bate swearing. 

When thou dost tell another's jest, therein 

Omit the oaths, which true wit cannot need : 

Pick out of tales the mirth, but not the sin. ♦ 

He pares his apple that will cleanly feed. 

Play not away the virtue of that name, 65 

Which is thy best stake, when griefs make thee tame. 



■■; 



The cheapest sins most dearly punish'd are : 

Because to shun them also is so cheap : 

For we have wit to mark them, and to spare. 

O crumble not away thy soul's fair heap. 
If thou wilt die, the gates of hell are broad : 
Pride and full sins have made the way a road. 72 

Lie not ; but let thy heart be true to God, 
Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both : 
Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod ; 
The stormy working soul spits lies and froth. 
Dare to be true. Nothing can need a lie : 
A fault, which needs it most, grows two thereby. 7S 



The Temple. 

Fly idleness, which yet thou canst not fly 
By dressing, mistressing, and complement. 
If those take up thy day, the Sun will cry 
Against thee ; for his light was only lent. 
God gave thy soul brave wings, put not those feathers 
Into a bed, to sleep out all ill weathers. 84 

\\RT thou a Magistrate ? then be severe : 
^ If studious ; copy fair what time hath blurr'd ; 
Redeem truth from his jaws : if Soldier, 
Chase brave employments with a naked sword 
Throughout the world. Fool not ; for all may have, 
If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave. 




90 



O England ! full of sin, but most of sloth ! 

Spit out thy phlegm, and fill thy breast with glory : 

Thy Gentry bleats, as if thy native cloth 

Transfused a sheepishness into thy story : 
Not that they all are so ; but that the most 
Are gone to grass, and in the pasture lost. 

^HIS loss springs chiefly from our education. 
Some till their ground, but let weeds choke their son : 
Some mark a partridge, never their child's fashion : 
Some ship them over, and the thing is done. 

Study this art, make it thy great design ; 

And if God's image move thee not, let thine. 102 

Some great estates provide, but do not breed 
A mastering mind ; so both are lost thereby : 

Or else they breed them tender, make them need 

All that they leave ; this is flat poverty. 

For he, that needs five thousand pound to live, 

Is full as poor as he that needs but five. 108 



The Church Porch. 5 

The way to make thy son rich, is to fill 
His mind with rest, before his trunk with riches : 
For wealth without contentment, climbs a hill, 
To feel those tempests, which fly over ditches. 
But if thy son can make ten pound his measure, 
Then all thou addest may be call'd his treasure. m 

When thou dost purpose aught (within thy power), 
Be sure to do it, though it be but small : 
Constancy knits the bones, and makes us stour, 
When wanton pleasures beckon us to thrall. 
Who breaks his own bond, forfeiteth himself : 
What nature made a ship, he makes a shelf. 120 

Wf\ O all things like a man, not sneakingly : 

Think the king sees thee still ; for his King does. 
Simpering is but a lay-hypocrisy : 
Give it a corner, and the clue undoes. 

Who fears to do ill, sets himself to task : 125 

Who fears to do well, sure should wear a mask. 

Look to thy mouth : diseases enter there. 
Thou hast two sconces, if thy stomach call ; 
Carve, or discourse ; do not a famine fear. 
Who carves, is kind to two ; who talks, to all. 

Look on meat, think it dirt, then eat a bit ; 

And say withal, Earth to earth I commit. 1S2 

Slight those who say amidst their sickly healths, 
Thou livest by rule. What doth not so but man ? 
Houses are built by rule, and commonwealths. 
Entice the trusty sun, if that you can, 
From his Ecliptic line ; beckon the sky. 
Who lives by rule, then, keeps good company. 138 



The Temple. 




Who keeps no guard upon himself, is slack, 
And rots to nothing at the next great thaw. 
Man is a shop of rules, a well-truss'd pack, 
Whose every parcel underwrites a law. 

Lose not thyself, nor give thy humours way ; 

God gave them to thee under lock and key. 



144 



K 



Y all means use sometimes to be alone. 

Salute thyself : see what thy soul doth wear. 
Dare to look in thy chest ; for 'tis thine own : 
And tumble up and down what thou find'st there. 
Wlio cannot rest till he good fellows find, 149 

He breaks up house, turns out of doors his mind. 



Be thrifty, but not covetous : therefore give 

Thy need, thine honour, and thy friend his due. 

Never was scraper brave man. Get to live ; 

Then live, and use it : else, it is not true 
That thou hast gotten. Surely use alone 
Makes money not a contemptible stone. 



156 



Never exceed thy income. Youth may make 
Even with the year : but age, if it will hit, 
Shoots a bow short, and lessens still his stake, 
As the day lessens, and his life with it. 

Thy children, kindred, friends upon thee call ; 

Before thy journey fairly part with all. 



162 




Yet in thy thriving still misdoubt some evil ; 

Lest gaining gain on thee, and make thee dim 

To all things else. Wealth is the conjurer's devil ; 

Whom when he thinks he hath, the devil hath him. 
Gold thou may'st safely touch ; but if it stick 
Unto thy hands, it woundeth to the quick. 168 




The Church Porch. 7 

HAT skills it, if a bag of stones or gold 
About thy neck do drown thee? raise thy head ; 
Take stars for money ; stars not to be told 
By any art, yet to be purchased. 

None is so wasteful as the scraping dame : 

She loseth three for one ; her soul, rest, 

fame. 1T4 

By no means run in debt : take thine own 

measure. 
Who cannot live on twenty pound a year, 
Cannot on forty : he'sa man of pleasure, 
A kind of thing that's for itself too dear, 
The curious unthrift makes his clothes too wide, 
And spares himself, but would his tailor chide. 18 ° 

Spend not on hopes. They that by pleading clothes 
Do fortunes seek, when worth and service fail, 
Would have their tale believed for their oaths, 
And are like empty vessels under sail. 

Old courtiers know this ; therefore set out so, 

As all the day thou may'st hold out to go. 186 

£N clothes, cheap handsomeness doth bear the bell. 
Wisdom 's a trimmer thing than shop e'er gave. 
Say not then, This with that lace will do well ; 
But, This with my discretion will be brave. 
Much curiousness is a perpetual wooing, 
Nothing with labour, folly long a doing. 192 

Play not for gain, but sport. Who plays for more 
Than he can lose with pleasure, stakes his heart : 
Perhaps his wife's too, and whom she hath bore : 
Servants and churches also play their part. 

Only a herald, who that way doth pass, 19 ? 

Finds his crack' d name at length in the Church-glass. 



•I 



The Temple. 

If yet thou love game at so dear a rate, 
Learn this, that hath old gamesters dearly cost : 
Dost lose ? rise up ; dost win ? rise in that state. 
Who strive to sit out losing hands, are lost. 
Game is a civil gunpowder, in peace 
Blowing up houses with their whole increase. 20 * 

In Conversation boldness now bears sway. 

But know, that nothing can so foolish be, 

As empty boldness : therefore first assay 

To stuff thy mind with solid bravery ; 

Then march on gallant : get substantial worth : 
Boldness gilds finely, and will set it forth. 210 

Be sweet to all. Is thy complexion sour ? 
Then keep such company ; make them thy allay : 
Get a sharp wife, a servant that will lour. 
A stumbler stumbles least in rugged way. 

Command thyself in chief. He life's war knows, 
3p ' |- Whom all his passions follow, as he goes. 216 

Catch not at quarrels. He that dares not speak 

Plainly and home, is coward of the two. 

Think not thy fame at every twitch will break ; 

By great deeds show, that thou canst little do ; 

And do them not : that shall thy wisdom be ; 

Wr& And change thy temperance into bravery. 222 

{ y\ If that thy fame with every toy be posed, 
) J? 'Tis a thin web, which poisonous fancies make ; 
>f\< But the great soldier's honour was composed 
* Of thicker stuff, which would endure a shake. 

Wisdom picks friends ; civility plays the rest. 

A toy shunn'd cleanly passeth with the best. 228 



r*>. 



<3fe 



The Church Porch. 9 

Laugh not too much : the witty man laughs least : 

For wit is news only to ignorance. 

Less at thine own things laugh ; lest in the jest 

Thy person share, and the conceit advance. 
Make not thy sport, abuses : for the fly, 
That feeds on dung, is coloured thereby. 2U 

\ICK out of mirth, like stones out of thy ground, 
Profaneness, filthiness, abusiveness. 
These are the scum, with which coarse wits abound: 
The fine may spare these well, yet not go less. 
All things are big with jest : nothing that's plain 
But may be witty, if thou hast the vein. 240 

Wit's an unruly engine, wildly striking 
Sometimes a friend, sometimes the engineer : 
Hast thou the knack ? pamper it not with liking : 
But if thou* want it, buy it not too dear. 
Many affecting wit beyond their power, 
Have got to be a dear fool for an hour. 246 

A sad wise valour is the brave complexion, 
That leads the van, and swallows up the cities. 
/\jt The giggler is a milk-maid, whom infection, 
" u£ Or a fired beacon frighteth from his ditties. 
Then he's the sport : the mirth then in him rests, 
And the sad man is cock of all his jests. 252 

Towards great persons use respective boldness : 
That temper gives them theirs, and yet doth take 
Nothing from thine : in service, care, or coldness, 
Doth ratably thy fortunes mar or make. 

Feed no man in his sins : for adulation 

Doth make thee parcel-devil in damnation. 258 



io The Temple. 

^NVY not greatness : for thou mak'st thereby 
Thyself the worse, and so the distance greater. 
Be not thine own worm : yet such jealousy, 
As hurts not others, but may make thee better, 

Is a good spur. Correct thy passion's spite ; 

Then may the beasts draw thee to happy light. 26i 



When baseness is exalted, do not bate 

The place its honour for the person's sake. 

The shrine is that which thou dost venerate ; 

And not the beast, that bears it on his back. 
I care not though the cloth of State should be 
Not of rich arras, but mean tapestry. 



270 



Thy friend put in thy bosom : wear his eyes 
Still in thy heart, that he may see what's there. 
If cause require, thou art his sacrifice ; 
Thy drops of blood must pay down all his fear ; 

But love is lost ; the way of friendship 's gone ; 

Though David had his Jonathan, Christ his John. 276 

^ET be not surety, if thou be a father. 
Love is a personal debt. I cannot give 
My children's right, nor ought he take it : rather 
Both friends should die, than hinder them to live. 
Fathers first enter bonds to nature's ends ; 
And are her sureties, ere they are a friend's. 282 



If thou be single, all thy goods and ground 
Submit to love ; but yet not more than all. 
Give one estate, as one life. None is bound 
To work for two, who brought himself to thrall. 
God made me one man ; love makes me no more, 
Till labour come, and make my weakness score. 



*. 



The Church Porch. 1 1 

In thy Discourse, if thou desire to please : 
All such is courteous, useful, new, or witty : 
Usefulness comes by labour, wit by ease ; 
Courtesy grows in court ; news in the city. 
Get a good stock of these, then draw the card 
That suits him best, of whom thy speech is heard. 294 

' Entice all neatly to what they know best ; 
For so thou dost thyself and him a pleasure : 
(But a proud ignorance will lose his rest, 
Rather than show his cards,) steal from his treasure 
What to ask farther. Doubts well-raised do lock 
The speaker to thee, and preserve thy stock. so ° 

If thou be Master-gunner, spend not all 
That thou canst speak, at once ; but husband it, 
And give men turns of speech : do not forestall 
By lavishness thine own, and others' wit, 
As if thou madest thy will. A civil guest 
Will no more talk all, than eat all the feast. 306 

Be calm in arguing : for fierceness makes 

Error a fault, and truth discourtesy. 

Why should I feel another man's mistakes 

More, than his sicknesses or poverty ? 
In love -I should : but anger is not love, 
Nor wisdom neither ; therefore gently move. 

Calmness is great advantage : he that lets 
Another chafe, may warm him at his fire : 
Mark all his wanderings, and enjoy his frets ; 
As cunning fencers suffer heat to tire. 

Truth dwells not in the clouds : the bow that's there 
Doth often aim at, never hit, the sphere. 318 



The Temple. 






Mark what another says : for many are 
Full of themselves, and answer their own notion. 
Take all into thee ; then with equal care 
Balance each dram of reason, like a potion. 
If truth be with thy friend, be with them both : 
Share in the conquest, and confess a troth. 324 

^jg|E useful where thou livest, that they may 
J(n Both want, and wish thy pleasing presence still. 
Kindness, good parts, great places are the way 
To compass this. Find out men's wants and will, 
And meet them there. All worldly joys go less 
To the one joy of doing kindnesses. 330 



Pitch thy behaviour low, thy projects high ; 
So shalt thou humble and magnanimous be : 
Sink not in spirit : who aimeth at the sky 
Shoots higher much than he that means a tree. 
A grain of glory mixt with humbleness 
Cures both a fever and lethargickness. 



336 



m 



Let thy mind still be bent, still plotting where, 
And when, and how the business may be done. 
Slackness breeds worms ; but the sure traveller, 
Though he alight sometimes, still goeth on. 

Active and stirring spirits live alone : 

Write on the others, Here lies such a one. 342 



SLIGHT not the smallest loss, whether it be 
In love or honour ; take account of all : 
Shine like the sun in every corner : see 
Whether thy stock of credit swell, or fall. 
Who say, / care not, those I give for lost ; 
And to instruct them, 'twill not quit the cost. 



348 






The Church Porch. 1 3 

3 CORN no man's love, though of a mean degree 
D (Love is a present for a mighty king) ; 
Much less make any one thine enemy. 
As guns destroy, so may a little sling. 
The cunning workman never doth refuse 
The meanest tool, that he may chance to use. 354 

\\ All foreign wisdom doth amount to this, 
- To take all that is given ; whether wealth, 
Or love, or language ; nothing comes amiss : 
A good digestion turneth all to health : 
And then as far as fair behaviour may, 
Strike off all scores ; none are so clear as they. 360 

Keep all thy native good, and naturalise 

All foreign of that name ; but scorn their ill : 

Embrace their activeness, not vanities. 

Who follows all things, forfeiteth his will. 
If thou observest strangers in each fit, 
In time they '11 run thee out of all thy wit. 366 

Affect in things about thee cleanliness, 
That all may gladly board thee, as a flower. 
Slovens take up their stock of noisomeness 
Beforehand, and anticipate their last hour. 
Let thy mind's sweetness have his operation 
Upon thy body, clothes, and habitation. 372 

In Alms regard thy means, and others' merit. 

Think heaven a better bargain, than to give 

Only thy single market-money for it. 

Join hands with God to make a man to live. 
Give to all, something ; to a good poor man, 
Till thou change names, and be where he began. 378 



14 The Temple. 

Man is God's image ; but a poor man is 
Christ's stamp to boot : both images regard. 
God reckons for him, counts the favour his : 
Write, So much given to God; thou shalt be heard. 
Let thy alms go before, and keep heaven's gate 
Open for thee ; or both may come too late. 38i 

Restore to God his due in tithe and time : 
A tithe purloin' d cankers the whole estate. 
Sundays observe : think when the bells do chime, 
'Tis angels' music ; therefore come not late. 
God then deals blessings : if a King did so, 
Who would not haste, nay give, to see the show ? 390 

JWICE on the day his due is understood ; 

For all the week thy food so oft he gave thee. 
Thy cheer is mended ; bate not of the food, 
Because 'tis better, and perhaps may save thee. 

Thwart not th' Almighty God : O be not cross. 

Fast when thou wilt ; but then 'tis gain, not loss. 396 

Though private prayer be a brave design, 
Yet public hath more promises, more love : 
And love's a weight to hearts, to eyes a sign. 
We all are but cold suitors ; let us move 

Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and seven ; 401 
Pray with the most : for where most pray, is heaven. 

When once thy foot enters the Church, be bare. 
God is more there, than thou : for thou art there 
Only by his permission. Then beware, 
And make thyself all reverence and fear. 
**» Kneeling ne'er spoil'd silk stocking : quit thy state. 
All equal are within the Church's gate. 408 



The Church Porch. 15 

Resort to sermons, but to prayers most : 
Praying's the end of preaching. O be drest ; 
II Stay not for th' other pin : why thou hast lost 

3p A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest 
Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee, 
Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about 
thee. 4H 

In time of service seal up both thine eyes, 
And send them to thy heart ; that spying sin, 
They may weep out the stains by them did rise : 
Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in. 
Who marks in church-time others' symmetry, 
Makes all their beauty his deformity. 42 ° 

Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part : 
Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasures thither. 
Christ purged his temple ; so must thou thy heart. 
All worldly thoughts are but thieves met together 

To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well ; 

For Churches either are our heaven or hell. 426 

Judge not the preacher ; for he is thy Judge : 
If thou mislike him, thou conceivest him not. 
God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge 
To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. 

The worst speak something good : if all want sense, 
God takes a text, and preacheth patience. 432 

He that gets patience, and the blessing which 
Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains. 
He that by being at Church escapes the ditch, 
Which he might fall in by companions, gains. 
He that loves God's abode, and to combine 437 
With saints on earth, shall one day with them shine. 



i6 



The Temple. 



J. 



Jest not at preachers' language, or expression : 

How know'st thou, but thy sins made him miscarry ? 

Then turn thy faults and his into confession : 

God sent him, whatsoe'er he be : O tarry, 

And love him for his Master : his condition, 
Though it be ill, makes him no ill Physician. 

J^ONE shall in hell such bitter pangs endure 

\. \)» As those who mock at God's way of salvation. 

Whom oil and balsams kill, what salve can cure ? 

They drink with greediness a full damnation 

The Jews refused thunder ; and we, folly. 

Though God do hedge us in, yet who is holy ? 



Sum up at night, what thou hast done by day ; 

And in the morning, what thou hast to do. 

Dress and undress thy soul : mark the decay 

And growth of it : if with thy watch, that too 
Be down, then wind up both ; since we shall be 
Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree. 456 




In brief, acquit thee bravely ; play the man. 

Look not on pleasures as they come, but go. 

Defer not the least virtue : life's poor span 

Make not an ell, by trifling in thy woe. 
If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains : 
If well, the pain doth fade, the joy remains. 



462 





SUPERLIMINARE. 



|HOU, whom the former precepts have 
Sprinkled and taught, how to behave 
Thyself in Church ; approach, and taste 
The Church's mystical repast. 

Avoid profaneness ; come not here : 
Nothing but holy, pure, and clear, 
Or that which groaneth to be so, 
May at his peril farther go. 



THE ALTAR. 

A broken Altar, Lord, thy servant rears, 

Made of a heart, and cemented with tears : 

Whose parts are as thy hand did frame ; 

No workman's tool hath touch'd the same. 

A Heart alone 

Is such a stone, 

As nothing but 

Thy power doth cut. 

Wherefore each part 

Of my hard heart 

Meets in this frame, 

To praise thy name : 

That, if I chance to hold my peace, 

These stones to praise thee may not cease. 

O let thy blessed Sacrifice be mine, 

And sanctify this Altar to be thine. 

B 







THE SACRIFICE. 

g^ ALL ye, who pass by, whose eyes and mind 
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blind ; 
To me, who took eyes that I might you find : 
Was ever grief like mine? 

The Princes of my people make a head 
Against their Maker : they do wish me dead, 
Who cannot wish, except I give them bread : 

Was ever grief like mine $ 



Without me each one, who doth now me brave, 
Had to this day been an Egyptian slave. 
They use that power against me, which I gave : 
Was ever grief like mine? 

Mine own Apostle, who the bag did bear, 
Though he had all I had, did not forbear 
To sell me also, and to put me there : 

Was ever grief 'like mine ? 

For thirty pence he did my death devise, 
Who at three hundred did the ointment prize, 
Not half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice : 

Was ever grief like mine? 



16 



Was ever grief like mine? 

:mtz 



4 : ^ 



<i 



The Church. 19 

Therefore my soul melts, and my heart's dear treasure 
Drops blood (the only beads) my words to measure : 
O let this cup ft ass ) if it be thy pleasure : 

Was ever grief like mine? 24 

These drops being temper' d with a sinner's tears, 
A balsam are for both the Hemispheres, 
Curing all wounds, but mine ; all, but my fears. 

Was ever grief like mine? 

Yet my Disciples sleep : I cannot gain 

One hour of watching ; but their drowsy brain 

Comforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain : 



32 




RISE, arise, they come ! Look how they run ! 
Alas ! what haste they make to be undone ! 
How with their lanterns do they seek the sun ! 
fe£ Was ever grief like mine ? 

With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief, 
Who am the way of truth, the true relief, 
Most true to those who are my greatest grief: 

Was ever grief like mine ? 40 

Judas, dost thou betray me with a kiss ? 
Canst thou find hell about my lips ? and miss 
Of life, just at the gates of life and bliss ? 

Was ever grief like mine? 

See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands 

Of faith, but fury ; yet at their commands 

I suffer binding, who have loosed their bands : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 48 



20 



The Temple. 



LL my Disciples fly ; fear puts a bar 
Betwixt my friends and me. They leave the star, 
That brought the wise men of the East from far : 
Was ever grief like 7nine? 

Then from one ruler to another bound 
They lead me : urging, that it was not sound 
What I taught : Comments would the text confound. 
Was ever grief like 7nine f 56 

The Priests and Rulers all false witness seek 
'Gainst him, who seeks not life, but is the meek 
And ready Paschal Lamb of this great week : 

Was ever grief like mine t 



Then they accuse me of great blasphemy, 
That I did thrust into the Deity, 
Who never thought that any robbery : 

Was ever grief like mine f 




64 



OME said, that I the Temple to the floor 
In three days razed, and raised as before. 
W T hy, he that built the world can do much 
more : 

Was ever grief like mine? 

Then they condemn me all with that same breath, 
Which I do give them daily, unto death. 
Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth : 

Was ever grief like mine? 72 

They bind, and lead me unto Herod : he 
Sends me to Pilate. This makes them agree ; 
But yet their friendship is my enmity. 

Was ever grief like mine? 



The Church. 



21 



Herod and all his bands do set me light, 
Who teach all hands to war, fingers to fight, 
And only am the Lord of hosts and might. 

Was ever grief like 7nine t 80 



% 



► EROD in judgment sits, while I do stand ; 
Examines me with a censorious hand : 
I him obey, who all things else command : 
Was ever grief like mine? 

The Jews accuse me with despitefulness ; 
And vying malice with my gentleness, 
Pick quarrels with their only happiness : 

Was ever grief like mine? 

I answer nothing, but with patience prove 
If stony hearts will melt with gentle love. 
But who does hawk at eagles with a dove ? 
Was ever grief like mine? 

My silence rather doth augment their cry ; 
My dove doth back into my bosom fly, 
Because the raging waters still are high : 

Was ever grief like 7nine? 

Hark how they cry aloud still, Crucify : 
It is not fit he live a day, they cry, 
Who cannot live less than eternally : 

Was ever grief like mine? 

Pilate a stranger holdeth off ; but they, 
Mine own dear people, cry, Away, away, 
With noises confused frighting the day : 

Was ever grief like mine? 



104 



The Temple. 

Yet still they shout, and cry, and stop their ears, 
Putting my life among their sins and fears, 
And therefore with my blood on them and theirs : 
Was ever grief like mine? 

SEE how spite cankers things. These words aright 
Used, and wish'd, are the whole world's light : 
But honey is their gall, brightness their night : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 11 2 

They choose a murderer, and all agree 

In him to do themselves a courtesy ; 

For it was their own cause who killed me : 

Was ever grief like mine? 



And a seditious murderer he was : 
But I the Prince of Peace ; peace that doth pass 
All understanding, more than heaven doth glass : 
Was ever grief like mine ? 



120 



Why, Caesar is their only King, not I : 

He clave the stony rock, when they were dry ; 

But surely not their hearts, as I well try : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 



Ah, how they scourge me ! yet my tenderness 
Doubles each lash : and yet their bitterness 
Winds up my grief to a mysteriousness : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 



128 



JHEY buffet me, and box me as they list, 

Who grasp the earth and heaven with my fist, 
And never yet, whom I would punish, miss'd : 
Was ever grief like mine? 




The Church. 23 

Behold, they spit on me in scornful wise ; 
Who with my spittle gave the blind man eyes, 
Leaving his blindness to mine enemies : 

Was ever grief like mine? 136 

Y face they cover, though it be divine. 
As Moses' face was veiled, so is mine, 
Lest on their double-dark souls either shine : 
Was ever grief like mine? 

Servants and abjects flout me ; they are witty : 
Now prophesy who strikes thee, is their ditty. 
So they in me deny themselves all pity : 

Was ever grief like mine f m 

And now I am deliver' d unto death, 

Which each one calls for so with utmost breath, 

That he before me well-nigh suffereth : 

Was ever grief like mine? 

Weep not, dear friends, since I for both have wept, 
When all my tears were blood, the while you slept : 
Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept : 

Was ever grief like mine? 152 

The soldiers lead me to the common hall ; 
There they deride me, they abuse me all : 
Yet for twelve heavenly legions I could call : 

Was ever grief like mine? 

Then with a scarlet robe they me array ; 
Which shows my blood to be the only way, 
And cordial left to repair man's decay : 

Was ever grief like mine? 160 



24 The Temple. 

fHEN on my head a crown of thorns I wear ; 
For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear, 
Though I my vine planted and water' d there : 

Was ever grief like mine? 

So sits the earth's great curse in Adam's fall 

Upon my. head ; so I remove it all 

From th' earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall : 

Was ever grief like mine? 168 

Then with the reed they gave to me before, 
They strike my head, the rock from whence all store 
Of heavenly blessings issue evermore : 

Was ever grief like mine? 

They bow their knees to me, and cry, Hail, King : 
Whatever scoffs or scornfulness can bring, 
I am the floor, the sink, where they it fling ; 

Was ever grief like mine? 176 

[7p\ET since man's sceptres are as frail as reeds, 
W And thorny all their crowns, bloody their weeds ; 
I, who am Truth, turn into truth their deeds : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

The soldiers also spit upon that face 
Which Angels did desire to have the grace, 
And Prophets once to see, but found no place : 

Was ever grief like mine? 184 

Thus trimmed, forth they bring me to the rout, 
Who Crucify him, cry with one strong shout. 
God holds his peace at man, and man cries out : 
Was ever grief like mine? 



The Church. 25 

They lead me in once more, and putting then 
Mine own clothes on, they lead me out again. 
Whom devils fly, thus is he toss'd of men : 

Was ever grief like mine? 192 

And now weary of sport, glad to engross 
All spite in one, counting my life their loss, 
They carry me to my most bitter cross : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

My cross I bear myself, until I faint : 
Then Simon bears it for me by constraint, 
The decreed burden of each mortal Saint : 

Was ever g? ief like mine ? 200 

all ye who pass by, behold and see : 

Man stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree ; * 

The tree of life to all, but only me :. 

Was ever grief like mine? 

Lo, here I hang, charged with a world of sin, 
The greater world o' the two ; for that came in 
By words, but this by sorrow I must win : 

Was ever grief like mine? 208 

Such sorrow, as if sinful man could feel, 

Or feel his part, he would not cease to kneel, 

Till all were melted, though he were all steel. 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

But, O my God, my God! why leav'st thou me, 
The Son, in whom thou dost delight to be ? 

My God, my God 

Never was grief like mine. 216 



26 The Temple. 

Shame tears my soul, my body many a wound ; 
Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound ; 
Reproaches, which are free, while I am bound : 

Was ever grief like mine ? 

Now heal thyself, Physician ; now come down. 

Alas ! I did so, when I left my crown 

And Father's smile for you, to feel his frown : 

Was ever grief like mine t 224 

. In healing not myself, there doth consist 
ft All that salvation, which ye now resist ; 
V, Your safety in my sickness doth subsist : 

Was ever grief like mine? 

BETWIXT two thieves I spend my utmost breath, 
As he that for some robbery suffereth. 
Alas ! what have I stolen from you ? death : 

Was ever grief like mine? 2S2 

A king my title is, prefix' d on high ; 
) Yet by my subjects I'm condemn'd to die 
A servile death in servile company : 

Was ever grief like mine? 

They gave me vinegar mingled with gall, 

But more with malice : yet, when they did call, 

With Manna, Angels' food, I fed them all : 

Was ever grief like m ine ? 240 

They part my garments, and by lot dispose 

My coat, the type of love, which once cured those 

Who sought for help, never malicious foes : 

Was ever grief like mine? 



The Church. 27 

Nay, after death their spite shall farther go ; 
For they will pierce my side, I full well know ; 
That as sin came, so Sacraments might flow : 

Was ever grief like mine f 248 

But now I die ; now all is finished. 

My woe, man's weal : and now I bow my head : 

Only let others say, when I am dead, 

Never was grief like mine. 252 




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THE THANKSGIVING. 



KING of grief ! (a title strange, yet true, 

w^Jb ^° t ^ iee °^ a ^ kings on ty due) 

^ King of wounds ! how shall I grieve for thee, 

Who in all grief preventest me ? 
Shall I weep blood ? why, thou hast wept such store, 5 

That all thy body was one door. 
Shall I be scourged, flouted, boxed, sold ? 

'Tis but to tell the tale is told. 
My God, my God, why dost thou part from me f 

Was such a grief as cannot be. 10 

Shall I then sing, skipping, thy doleful story, 

And side with thy triumphant glory ? 
Shall thy strokes be my stroking ? thorns, my flower ? 

Thy rod, my posie ? cross, my bower ? 
But how then shall I imitate thee, and 

Copy thy fair, though bloody hand ? 
Surely I will revenge me on thy love, 

And try who shall victorious prove. 
If thou dost give me wealth ; I will restore 

All back unto thee by the poor. 
If thou dost give me honour ; men shall see, 

The honour doth belong to thee. 
I will not marry ; or, if she be mine, 

She and her children shall be thine. 
My bosom-friend, if he blaspheme thy name, 

I will tear thence his love and fame. 



15 



20 



25 







The Church. 29 

NE half of me being gone, the rest I give 

Unto some Chapel, die or live. 
As for thy passion — but of that anon, 

When with the other I have done. 30 

For thy predestination, I '11 contrive, 

That three years hence, if I survive, 
I '11 build a 'spital, or mend common ways, 

But mend my own without delays. 
Then I will use the works of thy creation, 35 

As if I used them but for fashion. 
The world and I will quarrel ; and the year 
P Shall not perceive, that I am here. 

^ My music shall find thee, and every string 

Shall have his attribute to sing ; 40 

That all together may accord in thee, 

And prove one God, one harmony. 
If thou shalt give me wit, it shall appear, 

If thou hast given it me, 'tis here. 
Nay, I will read thy book, and never move 45 

Till I have found therein thy love ; 
Thy art of love, which I '11 turn back on thee, 

O my dear Saviour, Victory ! 
Then for thy passion — I will do for that — 

Alas ! my God, I know not what. 50 






IK 



^\r<^V. ;v ;/vj (£\*j (<£fj (<$*j (<$fj (<£*j (^vg J£*y (<£<j (<£<j (<3feSS '// ,vj 




THE REPRISAL. 

HAVE consider'd it, and find 
There is no dealing with thy mighty passion : 
For though I die for thee, I am behind ; 
My sins deserve the condemnation. 

O make me innocent, that I 
May give a disentangled state and free ; 
And yet thy wounds still my attempts defy, 

For by thy death I die for thee. 

Ah ! was it not enough that thou 
By thy eternal glory didst outgo me ? 
Could' st thou not griefs sad conquests me allow, 

But in all victories overthrow me ? 

Yet by confession will I come 
Into the conquest. Though I can do naught 
Against thee, in thee I will overcome 

The man, who once against thee fought. 



mMW$&^~°-- 



16 




THE AGONY. 

^PHILOSOPHERS have measured mountains, 
Fathom'd the depths of seas, of states, and kings, 
Walk'd with a staff to heaven, and traced foun- 
tains : 
But there are two vast, spacious things, 
The which to measure it doth more behove : 
Yet few there are that sound them ; Sin and Love. 6 



The Church. 3 1 

Who would know Sin, let him repair 
Unto Mount Olivet ; there shall he see 
A man, so wrung with pains, that all his hair, 

His skin, his garments, bloody be. 
Sin is that Press and Vice, which forceth pain 
To hunt his cruel food through every vein. 12 

Who knows not Love, let him assay, 
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike 
Did set again abroach ; then let him say 

If ever he did taste the like. 
Love is that liquor sweet and most divine, 
Which my God feels as blood ; but I, as wine. 18 



THE SINNER. 

LORD, how I am all ague, when I seek 
What I have treasured in my memory ! 
Since, if my soul make even with the week, 
Each seventh note by right is due to thee. 

I find there quarries of piled vanities, 

But shreds of holiness, that dare not venture 
To show their face, since cross to thy decrees : 

There the circumference earth is, heaven the centre. 8 

In so much dregs the quintessence is small : 
The spirit and good extract of my heart 
Comes to about the many hundredth part. 
Yet, Lord, restore thine image, hear my call : 

And though my hard heart scarce to thee can groan, 
Remember that thou once didst write in stone. u 




GOOD FRIDAY. 

MY chief good, 
How shall I measure out thy blood ? 
How shall I count what thee befell, 
And each grief tell ? 



Shall I thy woes 
Number according to thy foes ? 
Or, since one star show'd thy first breath, 

Shall all thy death ? 

Or shall each leaf, 
Which falls in Autumn, score a grief ? 
Or cannot leaves, but fruit, be sign 

Of the true vine ? 

Then let each hour 
Of my whole life one grief devour ; 
That thy distress through all may run, 

And be my sun. 

Or rather let 
My several sins their sorrows get ; 
That, as each beast his cure doth know, 

Each sin may so. 



16 



SINCE blood is fittest, Lord, to write 
Thy sorrows in, and bloody fight ; 
My heart hath store ; write there, where in 
One box doth lie both ink and sin : 



2$ 



The Church. 

That when Sin spies so many foes, 
Thy whips, thy nails, thy wounds, thy woes, 
All come to lodge there, Sin may say, 
No room for me, and fly away. 



33 



Sin being gone, O fill the place, 
And keep possession with thy grace ; 
Lest sin take courage and return, 
And all the writings blot or burn. 



32 



REDEMPTION. 

Having been tenant long to a rich Lord, 
Not thriving, I resolved to be bold, 
And make a suit unto him, to afford 

A new small-rented lease, and cancel th' old. 

In Heaven at his manor I him sought : 

They told me there, that he was lately gone 
About some land, which he had dearly bought 

Long since on earth, to take possession. 



I straight return' d, and knowing his great birth, 
Sought him accordingly in great resorts ; 
In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts : 

At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth 



Of thieves and murderers : there I him espied, 
Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died. 



SEPULCHRE. 

BLESSED body ! whither art thou thrown ? 
No lodging for thee, but a cold hard stone ? 
So many hearts on earth, and yet not one 

Receive thee ? 

Sure there is room within our hearts good store ; 
For they can lodge transgressions by the score : 
Thousands of toys dwell there, yet out of door 

They leave thee. $ 

But that which shows them large, shows them unfit. 
Whatever sin did this pure rock commit, 
Which holds thee now ? Who hath indited it 

Of murder ? 

Where our hard hearts took up of stones to brain thee. 
And missing this, most falsely did arraign thee ; 
Only these stones in quiet entertain thee, 

And order. 16 

And as of old, the Law by heavenly art 
Was writ in stone ; so thou, which also art 
The letter of the word, find'st no fit heart 

To hold thee. 



Yet do we still persist as we began, 
And so should perish, but that nothing can, 
Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man 

Withhold thee. 



24 



EASTER. 

l^s^ISE, heart ; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise 
J13L Without delays, 

/[ 4 Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise 
jfk< With him mav'st rise : 



With him may'st rise : 
3 s That, as his death calcined thee to dust, 

His life may make thee gold, and much more, Just. 6 



{ 



Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part 

With all thy art. 

The cross taught all wood to resound his name 
Who bore the same. 

His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key 

Is best to celebrate this most high day. 

Consdrt both heart and lute, and twist a song 

Pleasant and long : 

Or since all music is but three parts vied, 

And multiplied ; 

O let thy blessed Spirit bear a part, 

And make up our defects with his sweet art. 



12 



GOT me flowers to strew thy way ; 
I got me boughs off many a tree : 
But thou wast up by break of day, 
And brought' st thy sweets along with thee. 

The Sun arising in the East, 

Though he give light, and th' East perfume : 

If they should offer to contest 

With thy arising, they presume. 



36 The Temple. 

Can there be any day but this, 

Though many suns to shine endeavour ? 

We count three hundred, but we miss : 

There is but one, and that one ever. 30 



EASTER WINGS. 

LORD, WHO CREATEDST MAN IN WEALTH AND STORE. 
THOUGH FOOLISHLY HE LOST THE SAME, 
DECAYING MORE AND MORE, 
TILL HE BECAME 

MOST POOR : 5 

WITH THEE 
OH LET ME RISE 
AS LARKS, HARMONIOUSLY, 
AND SING THIS DAY THY VICTORIES : 
THEN SHALL THE FALL FARTHER THE FLIGHT IN ME. 10 

MY TENDER AGE IN SORROW DID BEGIN: 
AND STILL WITH SICKNESSES AND SHAME 
THOU DID'ST SO PUNISH SIN, 
THAT I BECAME 

MOST THIN. 15 

WITH THEE 
LET ME COMBINE, 
AND FEEL THIS DAY THY VICTORY, 
FOR, IF I IMP MY WING ON THINE, 
AFFLICTION SHALL ADVANCE THE FLIGHT IN ME. 20 



A&J* 



The Church, 37 

HOLY BAPTISM. 

I She that sees a dark and shady grove, 

Stays not, but looks beyond it on the sky ; 
h~ So when I view my sins, mine eyes remove 

More backward still, and to that water fly, 

Which is above the heavens, whose spring and vent 
Is in my dear Redeemer's pierced side. 
O blessed streams ! either ye do prevent 

And stop our sins from growing thick and wide, 8 

Or else give tears to drown them, as they grow. 
In you Redemption measures all my time, 
And spreads the plaster equal to the crime : 

You taught the book of life my name, that so, 

Whatever future sins should me miscall, 

Your first acquaintance might discredit all. u 



HOLY BAPTISM. 



» 



[INCE, Lord, to thee 

A narrow way and little gate 
Is all the passage, on my infancy 

Thou didst lay hold, and antedate 

My faith in me. 5 

O let me still 
Write thee great God, and me a child : 
Let me be soft and supple to thy will, 
Small to myself, to others mild, 

Behither ill. 10 



38 The Temple. 

Although by stealth 
My flesh get on ; yet let her sister 
My soul bid nothing, but preserve her wealth : 
The growth of flesh is but a blister ; 
Childhood is health. 




NATURE. 

•ULL of rebellion, I would die, 
Or fight, or travel, or deny 
That thou hast aught to do with me/ 

O tame my heart ; 
It is thy highest art 
To captivate strong holds to thee. 

If thou shalt let this venom lurk, 
And in suggestions fume and work, 
My soul will turn to bubbles straight, 

And thence by kind 
Vanish into a wind, 
Making thy workmanship deceit. 



O smooth my rugged heart, and there 
Engrave thy reverend law and fear ; 
Or make a new one, since the old 

Is sapless grown, 
And a much fitter stone 
To hide my dust, than thee to hold. 



The Church. 39 



SIN. 

LORD, with what care hast thou begirt us round ! 
Parents first season us : then schoolmasters 
|j/A Deliver us to laws ; they send us bound 

To rules of reason, holy messengers, 

Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, 
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, 
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in, 

Bibles laid open, millions of surprises, ' 

Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness, 

The sound of glory ringing in our ears ; 
Without, our shame ; within, our consciences ; 

Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears. 

Yet all these fences and their whole array 
One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away. 14 



AFFLICTION. 

*)HEN first thou didst entice to thee my heart, 
I thought the service brave : 
So many joys I writ down for my part, 
Besides what I might have 
Out of my stock of natural delights, 
Augmented with thy gracious benefits. 



40 The Temple. 

I looked on thy furniture so fine, 

And made it fine to me ; 

Thy glorious household-stuff did me entwine, 
And 'tice me unto thee. 

Such stars I counted mine : both heaven and earth 

Paid me my wages in a world of mirth. 12 

What pleasures could I want, whose King I served, 
Where joys my fellows were ? 
CXp* Thus argued into hopes, my thoughts reserved 
No place for grief or fear ; 
Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place, 
•\j^ And made her youth and fierceness seek thy face : 18 

At first thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses ; 

I had my wish and way : 
My days were strew' d with flowers and happiness : 

There was no month but May. 
But with my years sorrow did twist and grow, 
And made a party unawares for woe. 

My flesh began unto my soul in pain, * 

Sicknesses cleave my bones, 

Consuming agues dwell in every vein, 

And tune my breath to groans : 

Sorrow was all my soul ; I scarce believed, 

Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived. 

When I got health, thou took'st away my life, 

And more ; for my friends die : 

My mirth and edge was lost ; a blunted knife 
Was of more use than I. 

Thus thin and lean, without a fence or friend, 

I was blown through with every storm and wind. 36 



The Church 41 

3 HERE AS my birth and spirit rather took 

The way that takes the town ; 

Thou didst betray me to a lingering book, 
And wrap me in a gown. 

I was entangled in the world of strife, 

Before I had the power to change my life. 42 

Yet, for I threatened oft the siege to raise, 

Not simpering all mine age, 

Thou often didst with Academic praise 

Melt and dissolve my rage. 

I took thy sweeten'd pill, till I came near ; 

I could not go away, nor persevere. 48 

Yet lest perchance I should too happy be 

In my unhappiness, 
Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me 

Into more sicknesses. 
Thus doth thy power cross-bias me, not making 
Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking. 5i 

)OW I am here, what thou wilt do with me 

None of my books will show : 
I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree ; 

For sure then I should grow 
To fruit or shade : at least some bird would trust 
Her household to me, and I should be just. 

Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek ; 

In weakness must be stout. 
Well, I will change the service, and go seek 

Some other Master out. 
Ah, my dear God ! though I am clean forgot, 
Let me not love thee, if I love thee not. 



60 



REPENTANCE. 



ORD, I confess my sin is great ; 

Great is my sin. Oh ! gently treat 
With thy quick flower, thy momentary bloom ; 
Whose life still pressing 
Is one undressing, 
A steady aiming at a tomb. 



Man's age is two hours' work, or three ; 
Each day doth round about us see. 
Thus are we to delights : but we are all 

To sorrows old, 

If life be told 
From what life feeleth, Adam's fall. 12 




O let thy height of mercy then 
Compassionate short-breathed men, 
Cut me not off for my most foul transgression : 

I do confess 

My foolishness ; 
My God, accept of my confession. 



Sweeten at length this bitter bowl, 
Which thou hast pour'd into my soul ; 
°Thy wormwood turn to health, winds to fair weather : 

For if thou stay, 

I and this day, 
As we did rise, we die together. 24 




The Church. 43 

HEN thou for sin rebukest man, 

Forthwith he waxeth woe and wan : 
Bitterness fills our bowels ; all our hearts 
Pine, and decay, 
And drop away, 
And carry with them th' other parts. 30 

But thou wilt sin and grief destroy ; 
That so the broken bones may joy, 
And tune together in a well-set song, 
Full of his praises 
Who dead men raises. 
Fractures well cured make us more strong. 36 



FAITH. 

^ ORD, how couldst thou so much appease 

Thy wrath for sin, as, when man's sight was dim, 
And could see little, to regard his ease, 
And bring by Faith all things to him ? 

Hungry I was, and had no meat : 
I did conceit a most delicious feast ; 
I had it straight, and did as truly eat, 

As ever did a welcome guest. 

There is a rare outlandish root, 
Which when I could not get, I thought it here : 
That apprehension cured so well my foot, 

That I can walk to heaven well near. 



44 The Temple. 

I owed thousands and much more : 
I did believe that I did nothing owe, 
And lived accordingly ; my creditor 

Believes so too, and lets me go. 16 

Faith makes me anything, or all 
That I believe is in the sacred story : 
And when sin placeth me in Adam's fall, 

Faith sets me higher in his glory. 

If I go lower in the book, 
What can be lower than the common manger ? 
Faith puts me there with Him, who sweetly took 

Our flesh and frailty, death and danger. 24 

If bliss had lien in art or strength, 
None but the wise and strong had gained it : 
Where now by Faith all arms are of a length ; 

One size doth all conditions fit. 

A peasant may believe as much 
As a great Clerk, and reach the highest stature. 
Thus dost thou make proud knowledge bend and 
crouch, 

While Grace fills up uneven Nature. 



32 



When creatures had no real light 
Inherent in them, thou didst make the sun, 
Impute a lustre, and allow them bright : 

And in this show what Christ hath done. 

That which before was darken' d clean 
With bushy groves, pricking the looker's eye, 
Vanish'd away, when Faith did change the scene : 

And then appear' d a glorious sky. 40 



The Church. 

What though my body run to dust ? 
Faith cleaves unto it, counting every grain, 
With an exact and most particular trust, 

Reserving all for flesh again. 



45 



44 



^~J 



PRAYER. 

^RAYER, the Church's banquet, Angel's age, 

God's breath in man returning to his birth, 

The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage, 

The Christian plummet sounding heaven and earth ; 

Engine against th' Almighty, sinner's tower, 

Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear, 
The six days' world-transposing in an hour, 

A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear ; 8 

Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss, 
Exalted Manna, gladness of the best, 
Heaven in ordinary, men well drest, 

The Milky Way, the bird of Paradise, 

Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood, 
The land of spices, something understood. 14 



C^y^^Jp^^^^^O C\^f 



12 



HOLY COMMUNION. 

°OT in rich furniture, or fine array, 

Nor in a wedge of gold, 

Thou, who from me wast sold, 
To me dost now thyself convey ; 
I For so thou should' st without me still have been, 

Leaving within me sin : 

But by the way of nourishment and strength, 

Thou creep' st into my breast ; 

Making thy way my rest, 
And thy small quantities my length ; 
Which spread their forces into every part, 

Meeting sin's force and art. 

Yet can these not get over to my soul, 

'Leaping the wall that parts 

Our souls and fleshly hearts ; 
But as th' outworks, they may control 
My rebel-flesh, and carrying thy name, 

Affright both sin and shame. 18 

Only thy grace, which with these elements comes, 

Knoweth the ready way, 

And hath the privy key, 
Opening the soul's most subtile rooms : 
While those to spirits refined, at door attend 

Despatches from their friend. 2 * 

Give me my captive soul, or take 

My body also thither. 
Another lift like this will make 

Them both to be together. 



The Church. 47 

Jjf4 E FORE that sin turn'd flesh to stone, 
Mfi| And all our lump to leaven ; 

A fervent sigh might well have blown 

Our innocent earth to heaven. 32 

For sure, when Adam did not know 

To sin, or sin to smother ; 
He might to heaven from Paradise go, 

As from one room t' another. 

Thou hast restored us to this ease 

By this thy heavenly blood, 
Which I can go to, when I please, 

And leave th' earth to their food. 40 



ANTIPHON. 

CHO. Let all the world in every corner sing, 

My God and King. 

Ver. The heavens are not too high, 

His praise may thither fly : 
The earth is not too low, 
His praises there may grow. 

Cho. Let all the world in every corner sing, 

My God and King. 8 

Ver. The Church with Psalms must shout, 

No door can keep them out : 
But above all, the heart 
Must bear the longest part. 

Cho. Let all the world in every corner sing, 

My God and King. u 



The Temple. 



LOVE. 



PART I. 

>MMORTAL Love, author of this great frame, 

Sprung from that beauty which can never fade ; 

How hath man parcell'd out thy glorious name, 

And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made, 

While mortal love doth all the title gain ! 
Which siding with invention, they together 
Bear all the sway, possessing heart and brain 7 

(Thy workmanship), and give thee share in neither. 

Wit fancies beauty, beauty raiseth wit : 

The world is theirs ; they two play out the game, 
Thou standing by : and though thy glorious name 

Wrought our deliverance from th' infernal pit, 



ii 



Who sings thy praise ? only a scarf or glove 
Doth warm our hands, and make them write of 
love. 14 






PART II. 

Immortal Heat, O let thy greater flame 
Attract the lesser to it : let those fires 
Which shall consume the world, first make it tame, 

And kindle in our hearts such true desires, 

As may consume our lusts, and make thee way. 

Then shall our hearts pant thee ; then shall our 
brain 

All her inventions on thine Altar lay, 
And there in hymns send back thy fire again : 22 






The Church. 49 

Our eyes shall see thee, which before saw dust ; 
Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blind : 
Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kind, 

Who wert disseized by usurping lust : 

All knees shall bow to thee ; all wits shall rise, 
And praise Him who did make and mend our eyes. 28 




THE TEMPER. 

yj^OW should I praise thee, Lord ! how should my 
i!o^ rhymes 

Gladly engrave thy love in steel, 

If what my soul doth feel sometimes, 
My soul might ever feel ! 

Although there were some forty heavens, or more, 
Sometimes I peer above them all ; 
Sometimes I hardly reach a score, 

Sometimes to hell I fall. 8 



O rack me not to such a vast extent ; 
Those distances belong to thee : 
jj^F The world 's too little for thy tent, 
^S^ A grave too big for me. 

2* Wilt thou meet arms with man, that thou dost stretch 

A crumb of dust from heaven to hell ? 
yffa Will great God measure with a wretch ? 
^ Shall he thy stature spell ? w 

D 



50 The Temple. 

Olet me, when thy roof my soul hath hid, 
O let me roost and nestle there : 
Then of a sinner thou art rid, 
And I of hope and fear. 

Yet take thy way ; for sure thy way is best : 
Stretch or contract me thy poor debtor : 
This is but tuning of my breast, 
To make the music better. 



24 



Whether I fly with angels, fall with dust, 
Thy hands made both, and I am there. 
Thy power and love, my love and trust, 
Make one place every where. 



28 




THE TEMPER. 

\\T cannot be. Where is that mighty joy, 

Which just now took up all my heart ? 

Lord ! if thou must needs use thy dart, 

Save that, and me ; or sin for both destroy. 

The grosser world stands to thy word and art ; 
But thy diviner world of grace 
^s Thou suddenly dost raise and raze, 

And every day a new Creator art. 

O fix thy chair of grace, that all my powers 
May also fix their reverence : 
For when thou dost depart from hence, 

They grow unruly, and sit in thy bowers. 



The Church. 5 1 

Scatter, or bind them all to bend to thee : 

Though elements change, and heaven move ; 
Let not thy higher Court remove, 

But keep a standing Majesty in me. 16 



«35^H^SS» 



^ JORDAN. 

I W $^~® sa y s t * iat fictions on ly an d f a ^ se hair 
J |l|l/ Become a verse ? Is there in truth no beauty? 
A ^ Is all good structure in a winding stair ? 

rX 0j%^ May no lines pass, except they do their duty 

Not to a true, but painted chair ? 5 

Is it not verse, except enchanted groves 
And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spun lines ? 
Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves ? 
Must all be veil'd, while he that reads, divines, 

Catching the sense at two removes ? 10 

Shepherds are honest people ; let them sing : 
Riddle who list, for me, and pull for Prime : 
I envy no man's nightingale or spring ; 
Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme, 

Who plainly say, My God, my King. , 15 




EMPLOYMENT. 

F as a flower doth spread and die, 
Thou wouldst extend me to some good, 
Before I were by frost's extremity 

Nipt in the bud ; 

The sweetness and the praise were thine ; 
But the extension and the room, 
Which in thy garland I should fill, were mine 
At thy great doom. 

For as thou dost impart thy grace, 
The greater shall our glory be. 
The measure of our joys is in this place, 
The stuff with thee. 

Let me not languish then, and spend 
A life as barren to thy praise 
As is the dust, to which that life doth tend, 
But with delays. 

All things are busy : only I 
Neither bring honey with the bees, 
Nor flowers to make that, nor the husbandry 
To water these. 



I am no link of thy great chain, 
But all my company is a weed. 
Lord, place me in thy consort ; give one strain 
To my poor reed. 



24 



The Church. 



S3 



THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. 




PART I. 



BOOK ! infinite sweetness ! let my heart 
Suck every letter, and a honey gain, 
Precious for any grief in any part ; 

To clear the breast, to mollify all pain. 



Thou art all health, health thriving, till it make 

A full eternity : thou art a mass 

Of strange delights, where we may wish and take. 
Ladies, look here ; this is the thankful glass, 8 

That mends the looker's eyes : this is the well 

That washes what it shows. Who can endear 

Thy praise too much ? thou art Heaven's Lieger here, 

Working against the states of death and hell. 

Thou art joy's handsel : heaven lies flat in thee, 
Subject to every mounter's bended knee. u 



PART II. 

?H that I knew how all thy lights combine, 
And the configurations of their glory ! 
Seeing not only how each verse doth shine, 
But all the constellations of the story. 

This verse marks that, and both do make a motion 
Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie : 
Then as dispersed herbs do watch a potion, 

These three make up some Christian's destiny. 22 



54 



The Temple. 



Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good, 
And comments on thee : for in every thing 
Thy words do find me out, and parallels bring, 

And in another make me understood. 



Stars are poor books, and oftentimes do miss : 
This book of stars lights to eternal bliss. 



28 




WHITSUNDAY. 



ISTEN, sweet Dove, unto my song, 

And spread thy golden wings in me ; 
Hatching my tender heart so long, 
Till it get wing, and fly away with thee. 

Where is that fire which once descended 
On thy Apostles ? thou didst then 
Keep open house, richly attended, 
Feasting all comers by twelve chosen men. 

Such glorious gifts thou didst bestow, 
That th' earth did like a heaven appear : 
The stars were coming down to know 
If they might mend their wages, and serve here. 

The Sun, w^hich once did shine alone, 
Hung down his head, and wish'd for night, 
When he beheld twelve Suns for one 
Going about the world, and giving light. 



The Church. 



55 



I UT since those pipes of gold, which brought 
» That cordial water to our ground, 
Were cut and martyr' d by the fault 
Of those who did themselves through their side wound ; 

Thou shutt'st the door, and keep'st within ; 
Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink : 
And if the braves of conquering sin 
Did not excite thee, we should wholly sink ' 2i 

Lord, though we change, thou art the same ; 
The same sweet God of love and light : 
Restore this day, for thy great Name, 
Unto his ancient and miraculous right. 28 



GRACE. 



My stock lies dead, and no increase 
Doth my dull husbandry improve : 
O let thy graces without cease 

Drop from above ! 

If still the Sun should hide his face, 
Thy house would but a dungeon prove, 
Thy works night's captives : O let grace 
Drop from above ! 

The dew doth every morning fall ; 
And shall the dew outstrip thy Dove ? 
The dew, for which grass cannot call, 
Drop from above. 



56 The Temple. 

Death is still working like a mole, 
And digs my grave at each remove : 
Let grace work too, and on my soul 

Drop from above. 

Sin is still hammering my heart 
Unto a hardness, void of love : 
Let suppling grace, to cross his art, 

Drop from above. 

O come ! for thou dost know the way. 
Or if to me thou wilt not move, 
Remove me where I need not say — 
Drop from above. 



PRAISE. 




O write a verse or two, is all the praise 
That I can raise : 
Mend my estate in any ways, 

Thou shalt have more. 



I go to Church ; help me to wings, and I 
Will thither fly ; 
^ Or, if I mount unto the sky, 

I will do more. 

Man is all weakness ; there is no such thing 
As Prince or King : 
His arm is short ; yet with a sling 
He may do more. 



The Church. 57 

An herb distill' d, and drunk, may dwell next door 
On the same floor, 
To a brave soul : Exalt the poor, 

They can do more. 16 

O raise me, then ! poor bees, that work all day, 
Sting my delay, 
Who have a work, as well as they, 

And much, much more. 20 



kSC^kS^kSC^kS^ 



AFFLICTION. 

ILL me not every day, 
Thou Lord of life ; since thy one death for me 
Is more than all my deaths can be, 
Though I in broken pay 
Die over each hour of Methusalem's stay. 5 

If all men's tears were let 
Into one common sewer, sea, and brine ; 

What were they all, compared to thine ? 
Wherein if they were set, 
They would discolour thy most bloody sweat. 10 

Thou art my grief alone, 
Thou Lord conceal it not : and as thou art 

All my delight, so all my smart : 
Thy cross took up in one, 
By way of imprest, all my future moan. 15 





MATINS. 

CANNOT ope mine eyes, 

But thou art ready there to catch 
, My morning-soul and sacrifice : 

Then we must needs for that day make a match. 



My God, what is a heart ? 
Silver, or gold, or precious stone, 
Or star, or rainbow, or a part 
Of all these things, or all of them in one ? 



s|? My God, what is a heart, 

Hi That thou shouldst it so eye, and woo, 

Pouring upon it all thy art, 

§p As if that thou hadst nothing else to do ? 

UP Indeed, man's whole estate 

Amounts (and richly) to serve thee : 

R]2 He did not heaven and earth create, 

J& Yet studies them, not Him by whom they be. 

f 

&&* Teach me thy love to know ; 

*X That this new light, which now I see, 

gjfe May both the work and workman show : 

^5$? Then by a Sunbeam I will climb to thee. 



16 





SIN. 

THAT I could a sin once see ! 
We paint the devil foul, yet he 
Hath some good in him, all agree. 
Sin is flat opposite to th' Almighty, seeing 
It wants the good of virtue ; and of being. 



But God more care of us hath had, 

If apparitions make us sad, 

By sight of sin we should grow mad. 

Yet as in sleep we see foul death, and live ; 

So devils are our sins in prospective. 



EVEN-SONG. 



"gxLEST be the God of love, 

G> Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day, 

Both to be busy and to play. 

But much more blest be God above, 

Who gave me sight alone, 
Which to himself he did deny : 
For when he sees my ways, I die : 
But I have got his Son, and he hath none. 



60 The Temple. 

What have I brought thee home 
For this thy love ? have I discharged the debt, 
Which this day's favour did beget ? ' 
I ran ; but all I brought, was foam. 

Thy diet, care, and cost 
Do end in bubbles, balls of wind ; 
Of wind to thee whom I have crost, 
||J5^ But balls of wild-fire to my troubled mind. 16 

Yet still thou goest on, 
And now with darkness closest weary eyes, 
Saying to man, It doth suffice : 
Henceforth repose ; your work is done. 

Thus in thy Ebony box 
Thou dost enclose us, till the day 
Put our amendment in our way, 
And give new wheels to our disorder 5 d clocks. 

I muse, which shows more love, 
The day or night : that is the gale, this th' harbour ; 
That is the walk, and this the arbour ; 
Or that the garden, this the grove. 

My God, thou art all love. 
Not one poor minute 'scapes thy breast, 
But brings a favour from above ; 
And in this love, more than in bed, I rest. S2 





CHURCH MONUMENTS. 

3HILE that my soul repairs to her devotion, 
Here I entomb my flesh, that it betimes 
May take acquaintance of this heap of dust ; 
To which the blast of death's incessant motion, 
Fed with the exhalation of our crimes, 
Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust 

My body to this school, that it may learn 
To spell his elements, and find his birth 
Written in dusty heraldry and lines ; 
Which dissolution sure doth best discern, 
Comparing dust with dust, and earth with earth. 
These laugh at Jet, and Marble put for signs, 12 

To sever the good fellowship of dust, 
And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them, 
When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat 
To kiss those heaps, which now they have in trust ? 
Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stem 
And true descent ; that when thou shalt grow fat, 18 

And wanton in thy cravings, thou may'st know, 

That flesh is but the glass, which holds the dust 

That measures all our time ; which also shall 

Be crumbled into dust. Mark here below, 

How tame these ashes are, how free from lust, 

That thou may'st fit thyself against thy fall. 24 



62 The Temple. 

CHURCH MUSIC. 

O WEETEST of sweets, I thank you : when displeasure 
Did through my body wound my mind, 
You took me thence ; and in your house of pleasure 
A dainty lodging me assign'd. - 

Now I in you without a body move, 

Rising and falling with your wings : 

We both together sweetly live and love, 

Yet say sometimes, God help poor kings. 

Comfort, I'll die ; for if you post from me, 
Sure I shall do so, and much more : 

But if I travel in your company, 

You know the way to heaven's door. 




CHURCH LOCK AND KEY. 

KNOW it is my sin, which locks thine ears, 

And binds thy hands ! 
Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears ; 
Or else the chillness of my faint demands. 4 

But as cold hands are angry with the fire, 

And mend it still ; 
So I do lay the want of my desire, 
Not on my sins, or coldness, but thy will. 

Yet hear, O God, only for His blood's sake, 

Which pleads for me : 
For though sins plead too, yet like stones they make 
His blood's sweet current much more loud to be. 12 



THE CHURCH FLOOR. 




ARK you the floor ? that square and speckled stone, 
Which looks so firm and strong, 
Is Patience : 

And th' other black and grave, wherewith each one 
Is chequer'd all along, 

Humility : 6 

The gentle rising, which on either hand 
Leads to the quire above. 
Is Confidence : 

But the sweet cement, which in one sure band 
Ties the whole frame, is Love 

And Charity. 12 



Hither sometimes Sin steals, and stains 
The Marble's neat and curious veins : 

But all is cleansed when the Marble weeps. 
Sometimes Death, puffing at the door, 
Blows all the dust about the floor : 

But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps. 

Blest be the Architect ', whose art 
Could build so strong in a weak heart. 



20 




The Teviple. 



THE WINDOWS. 

' ORD, how can man preach thy eternal word ? 
He is a brittle crazy glass : 
( T \ Yet in thy Temple thou dost him afford 

This glorious and transcendent place, 
To be a window, through thy grace. 

But when thou dost anneal in glass thy story, 

Making thy life to shine within 
The holy Preachers, then the light and glory 

More rev'rend grow, and more doth win ; 

Which else show wat'rish, bleak, and thin. 10 

Doctrine and life, colours and light, in one 
When they combine and mingle, bring 

A strong regard and awe : but speech alone 
Doth vanish like a flaring thing, 
And in the ear, not conscience ring. 15 

TRINITY SUNDAY. 

ORD, who hast form'd me out of mud, 

And hast redeem' d me through thy blood, 

And sanctified me to do good ; 3 

Purge all my sins done heretofore ; 
For I confess my heavy score, 
And I will strive to sin no more. 

Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me, 
With faith, with hope, with charity ; 
That I may run, rise, rest with thee. 




CONTENT. 



. EACE, muttering thoughts, and do not grudge to keep 
Within the walls of your own breast. 
Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep, 
Can on another's hardly rest. 

Gad not abroad at every quest and call 

Of an untrained hope or passion. 
To court each place or fortune that doth fall, 

Is wantonness in contemplation. 8 

Mark how the fire in flints doth quiet lie, 
Content and warm to itself alone : 
^ But when it would appear to other's eye, 
Without a knock it never shone. 

Give me the pliant mind, whose gentle measure 
Complies and suits with all estates ; 

Which can let loose to a crown, and yet with pleasure 
Take up within a cloister's gates. 16 

This soul doth span the world, and hang content 

From either pole unto the centre : 
Where in each room of the well-furnish' d tent 

He lies warm, and without adventure. 

The brags of life are but a nine days' wonder : 
And after death the fumes that spring 

From private bodies, make as big a thunder 

As those which rise from a huge King. 2i 

E 



66 The Temple. 

®NLY thy Chronicle is lost : and yet 
Better by worms be all once spent, 
Than to have hellish moths still knaw and fret 
Thy name in books, which may not vent. 

I When all thy deeds, whose brunt thou feel'st alone, 
Are chaw'd by others' pens and tongue, 
And as their wit is, their digestion, 

Thy nourish' d fame is weak or strong. 

Then cease discoursing, soul, till thine own ground ; 

Do not thyself or friends importune. 
He that by seeking hath himself once found, 

Hath ever found a happy fortune. * 6 

WS8 



THE QUIDDITY. 

|^PY God, a verse is not a crown ; 
HJL No point of honour, or gay suit, 
jL No hawk, or banquet, or renown, 
jJV Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute : 

It cannot vault, or dance, or play ; 
It never was in France or Spain ; 
Nor can it entertain the day 
With a great stable or domain. 

It is no office, art, or news ; 
Nor the Exchange, or busy Hall : 
But it is that, which while I use, 
I am with thee, and Most take all. 





HUMILITY. 

SAW the Virtues sitting hand in hand 
In several ranks upon an azure throne, 
Where all the beasts and fowls, by their 
command, 
Presented tokens of submission. 
Humility, who sat the lowest there 

To execute their call, 
When by the beasts the presents tender' d were, 

Gave them about to all. s 

The angry Lion did present his paw, 
Which by consent was given to Mansuetude. 
The fearful Hare her ears, which by their law 
Humility did reach to Fortitude. 
The jealous Turkey brought his coral chain, 

That went to Temperance. 
On Justice was bestow'd the Fox's brain, 

Kill' d on the way by chance. ]6 

At length the Crow, bringing the Peacock's plume 
(For he would not), as they beheld the grace 
Of that brave gift, each one began to fume, 
And challenge it, as proper to his place, 
Till they fell out ; which when the beasts espied, 

They leapt upon the throne ; 
And if the Fox had lived to rule their side, 

They had deposed each one. 24 



68 



The Temple. 



Humility, who held the plume, at this 

Did weep so fast, that the tears trickling down 

Spoil' d all the train : then saying, Here it is, 

For which ye wrangle, made them turn their frown 

Against the beasts : so jointly bandying, 

t They drive them soon away ; 
And then amerced them, double gifts to bring 

At the next Session-day. 32 







FRAILTY. 

ORD, in my silence how do I despise 
What upon trust 
Is styled honour, riches, or fair eyes ; 

But is—fair dust ! 
I surname them gilded clay, 
Dear earth, f?ie grass, or hay ; 
In all, I think my foot doth ever tread 
Upon their head. 

But when I view abroad both Regiments, 
The world's, and thine ; 
Thine clad with simpleness, and sad events ; 
The other fine, 
Full of glory and gay weeds, 
Brave language, braver deeds : 
That which was dust before, doth quickly rise, 
And prick mine eyes. 



The Church. 69 

O brook not this, lest if what even now 

My foot did tread, 
Affront those joys, wherewith thou didst endow, 
And long since wed 
My poor soul, e'en sick of love ; 
It may a Babel prove, 
Commodious to conquer heaven and thee 

Planted in me. 24 



CONSTANCY. 

HO is the honest man ? 
He that doth still and strongly good pursue, 
To God, his neighbour, and himself most true : 

Whom neither force nor fawning can 
Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due. 5 

Whose honesty is not 
So loose or easy, that a ruffling wind 
Can blow away, or glittering look it blind : 

h W T ho rides his sure and even trot, 

fjj While the world now rides by, now lags behind. 10 

Who, when great trials come, 
Nor seeks, nor shuns them ; but doth calmly stay, 
Till he the thing and the example weigh : 

All being brought into a sum, 
What place or person calls for, he doth pay. 15 

Whom none can work or woo, 
To use in any thing a trick or sleight ; 
For above all things he abhors deceit : 

His words and works and fashion too 
All of a piece, and all are clear and straight. 20 



The Temple. 

D H0 never melts or thaws 
At close temptations : when the day is done, 
His goodness sets not, but in dark can run ; 

The sun to others writeth laws, 
And is their virtue ; Virtue is his Sun. 

Who, when he is to treat 
With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway, 
Allows for that, and keeps his constant way : 

Whom others' faults do not defeat ; 
But though men fail him, yet his part doth play. 30 

Whom nothing can procure, 
When the wide world runs bias, from his will 
To writhe his limbs, and share, not mend the ill. 

This is the Marksman, safe and sure, 
Who still is right, and prays to be so still. 



AFFLICTION. 

?Y heart did heave, and there came forth, O God ! 
Bill By that I knew that thou wast in the grief, 
To guide and govern it to my relief, 

Making a sceptre of the rod : 
Hadst thou not had thy part, 
Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart. 



But since thy breath gave me both life and shape, 
Thou know'st my tallies ; and when there's assign'd 
So much breath to a sigh, what 's then behind ? 
Or if some years with it escape, 
The sigh then only is 
A gale to bring me sooner to my bliss. 12 



The Church. 



71 



Thy life on earth was grief, and thou art still 

Constant unto it, making it to be 

A point of honour, now to grieve in me, 

And in thy members suffer ill. 
They who lament one cross, 
Thou dying daily, praise thee to thy loss. 




-41 



i 



THE STAR. 

RIGHT spark, shot from a brighter place, 
Where beams surround my Saviour's face, 
Canst thou be any where 
So well as there ? 

Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart, 
Take a bad lodging in my heart ; 
For thou canst make a debtor, 
And make it better. 

First with thy fire-work burn to dust 
Folly, and worse than folly, lust : 
Then with thy light refine, 
And make it shine. 

So disengaged from sin and sickness, 
Touch it with thy celestial quickness, 
That it may hang and move 
After thy love. 

Then with our trinity of light, 

Motion, and heat, let's take our flight 
Unto the place where thou 
Before didst bow. 



72 The Temple. 

§ET me a standing there, and place 
Among the beams, which crown the face 
Of Him who died to part 

Sin and my heart : 24 

That so among the rest I may 

Glitter, and curl, and wind as they : 
That winding is their fashion 
Of adoration. 

Sure thou wilt joy, by gaining me 
To fly home like a laden bee 
Unto that hive of beams 
And garland-streams. S2 



SUNDAY. 

DAY most calm, most bright, 
The fruit of this, the next world's bud, 
Th' indorsement of supreme delight, 
Writ by a friend, and with his blood ; 
The couch of time ; care's balm and bay ; 
The week were dark, but for thy light : 
Thy Torch doth show the way. 

The other days and thou 
Make up one man ; whose face thou art, 
Knocking at heaven with thy brow : 
The working-days are the back-part ; 
The burden of the week lies there, 
Making the whole to stoop and bow, 

Till thy release appear. u 



The Church. 73 

Man had straight forward gone 
To endless death ; but thou dost pull 
And turn us round to look on one, 
Whom, if we were not very dull, 
We could not choose but look on still ; 
Since there is no place so alone 

The which he doth not fill. 21 

Sundays the pillars are, 
On which heaven's palace arched lies : 
The other days fill up the spare 
And hollow room with vanities. 
They are the fruitful beds and borders 
In God's rich garden: that is bare 

Which parts their ranks and orders. 28 

The Sundays of man's life, 
Threaded together on time's string, 
Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
Of the eternal glorious King. 
On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope ; 
Blessings are plentiful and rife, 

More plentiful than hope. 35 

This day my Saviour rose, 
And did enclose this light for his : 
That, as each beast his manger knows, 
Man might not of his fodder miss. 
Christ hath took in this piece of ground, 
And made a garden there for those 

Who want herbs for their wound. 42 

The Rest of our Creation 
Our great Redeemer did remove 



74 The Temple. 

With the same shake, which at his passion 
Did th' earth and all things with it move. 
As Samson bore the doors away, 
Christ's hands, though nail'd, wrought our salvation, 
And did unhinge that day. 49 



1 



The brightness of that day 
We sullied by our foul offence : 
Wherefore that robe we cast away, 
Having a new at his expense, 
Whose drops of blood paid the full price, 
That was required to make us gay, 

And fit for Paradise. 56 

Thou art a day of mirth : 
And where the week-days trail on ground, 
Thy flight is higher, as thy birth : 
O let me take thee at the bound, 
Leaping with thee from seven to seven, 
Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, 

Fly hand in hand to heaven ! 




AVARICE. 

It/fONEY, thou bane of bliss, and source of woe, 

o& Whence com'st thou, that thou art so fresh and fine ? 

*1r I know thy parentage is base and low : 

^^ Man found thee poor and dirty in a mine. 

Surely thou didst so little contribute 

To this great kingdom, which thou now hast got, 
That he was fain, when thou wast destitute, 

To dig thee out of thy dark cave and grot. 



The Church. 75 

Then forcing thee, by fire he made thee bright : 
Nay, thou hast got the face of man ; for we 
Have with our stamp and seal transferr'd our right ; 

Thou art the man, and man but dross to thee. 

Man calleth thee his wealth, who made thee rich ; 
And while he digs out thee, falls in the ditch. u 



ANA- p„ R vj GRAM. 

to\V well her name an Army doth present, 

' In whom the Lord of hosts did pitch his tent ! 



TO ALL ANGELS AND* SAINTS. 

GLORIOUS spirits, who after all your bands 
See the smooth face of God, without a frown, 
Or strict commands ; 
Where every one is king, and hath his crown, 
If not upon his head, yet in his hands : 5 

Not out of envy or maliciousness 

Do I forbear to crave your special aid. 

I would address 
My vows to thee most gladly, blessed Maid, 
And Mother of my God, in my distress : 10 

Thou art the holy mine, whence came the gold, 
The great restorative for all decay 

In young and old ; 
Thou art the cabinet where the jewel lay : 
Chiefly to thee would I my soul unfold. 15 



j6 The Temple. 

(IJIUT now, alas ! I dare not ; for our King, 
<j*J Whom we do all jointly adore and praise, 

Bids no such thing : 
And where his pleasure no injunction lays 
('Tis your own case), ye never move a wing. 

All worship is prerogative, and a flower 

Of his rich crown, from whom lies no appeal 

At the last hour : 
Therefore we dare not from his garland steal, 
To make a posie for inferior power. 

Although then others court you, if ye know 
What 's done on earth, we shall not fare the worse 

Who do not so ; 
Since we are ever ready to disburse, 
If anv one our Master's hand can show. 




EMPLOYMENT. 

E that is weary, let him sit. 

My soul would stir 
And trade in courtesies and wit, 

Quitting the fur, 
To cold complexions needing it. 

Man is no star, but a quick coal 
Of mortal fire : 

Who blows it not, nor doth control 
A faint desire, 

Lets his own ashes choke his soul. 



10 



The Church. 77 

7 HEN th' elements did for place contest 
With Him, whose will 
Ordain'd the highest to be best : 

The earth sat still, 
And by the others is opprest. 15 

Life is a business, not good cheer ; 

Ever in wars. 
The sun still shineth there or here, 

Whereas the stars 
Watch an advantage to appear. 20 

O that I were an Orange-tree, 

That busy plant ! 
Then I should ever laden be, 

And never want 
Some fruit for him that dresseth me. 25 

• 
But we are still too young or old ; 

The man is gone, 
Before we do our wares unfold : 

So we freeze on, 
Until the grave increase our cold. 30 




78 



The Temple. 



DENIAL. 

^HEN my devotions could not pierce 
Thy silent ears ; 
Then was my heart broken, as was my verse ; 
My breast was full of fears 

And disorder, 

My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow, 
Did fly asunder : 
Each took his way ; some would to pleasures go, 
Some to the wars and thunder 
Of alarms. 

As good go any where, they say, 

As to benumb 
Both knees and heart, in crying night and day, 
Come ', come, my God, O come, 
But no hearing. 

O Thou that shouldst give dust a tongue 
To cry to thee, 
And then not hear it crying ! all day long 
My heart was in my knee, 

But no hearing, 

Therefore my soul lay out of sight, 

Untuned, unstrung : 
My feeble spirit, unable to look right, 
Like a nipt blossom, hung 

Discontented. 

O cheer and tune my heartless breast, 
Defer no time ; 
That so thy favours granting my request, 
They and my mind may chime, 

And mend my rhyme. 



20 



25 



SO 



CHRISTMAS. 

J LL after pleasures as I rid one day, 
*<* My horse and I, both tired, body and mind, 
With full cry of affections, quite astray ; 
I took up in the next Inn I could find. 

There when I came, whom found I but my dear, 
My dearest Lord, expecting till the grief 
Of pleasures brought me to Him, ready there 

To be all passengers' most sweet relief ? 

O Thou, whose glorious, yet contracted light, 
Wrapt in night's mantle, stole into a manger ; 
Since my dark soul and brutish is thy right, 

To Man of all beasts be not thou a stranger : 

Furnish and deck my soul, that thou may'st have 
A better lodging, than a rack, or grave. 



20 



§pjf HE shepherds sing ; and shall I silent be ? 
^2P My God, no hymn for thee ? 

My soul's a shepherd too : a flock it feeds 

Of thoughts, and words, and deeds. 
The pasture is thy word ; the streams, thy grace 

Enriching all the place. 

Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers 

Out-sing the daylight hours. 
Then we will chide the Sun for letting night 

Take up his place and right : 
We sing one common Lord ; wherefore he should 

Himself the candle hold. 26 



80 The Temple. 

I will go searching, till I find a Sun 

Shall stay, till we have done ; 

A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly, 
As frost-nipt Suns look sadly. 

Then we will sing, and shine all our own day, 
And one another pay : 

His beams shall cheer my breast, and both so twine, 
Till even his beams sing, and my music shine. u 



UNGRATEFULNESS. 

ORD, with what bounty and rare clemency 
Hast thou redeem' d us from the grave ! 

If thou hadst let us run, 
Gladly had man adored the Sun, 

And thought his god most brave ; 
Where now we shall be better gods than he. 

Thou hast but two rare Cabinets full of treasure, 
The Trinity ', and Incarnation : 

Thou hast unlock' d them both, 
And made them jewels to betroth 
The work of thy creation 
Unto thyself in everlasting pleasure. 12 

The statelier Cabinet is the Tri7iity, 
Whose sparkling light access denies : 

Therefore thou dost not show 
This fully to us, till death blow 
The dust into our eyes ; 
For by that powder thou wilt make us see. 18 



The Church. 

But all thy sweets are pack'd up in the other ; 
Thy mercies thither flock and flow ; 

That, as the first affrights, 
This may allure us with delights ; 
Because this box we know ; 
For we have all of us just such another. 



24 



But man is close, reserved, and dark to thee ; 
When thou demandest but a heart, 

He cavils instantly. 
In his poor cabinet of bone 
Sins have their box apart, 
Defrauding thee, who gavest two for one. 



30 




SIGHS AND GROANS. 

DO not use me 
After my sins ! look not on my desert, 
But on thy glory ! then thou wilt reform, 
And not refuse me : for thou only art 
The mighty God, but I a silly worm : 

O do not bruise me ! 6 



O do not urge me ! 
For what account can thy ill steward make ? 
I have abused thy stock, destroy'd thy woods, 
Suck'd all thy magazines : my head did ache, 
Till it found out how to consume thy goods : 
O do not scourge me ! 

F 



82 The Temple. 

O do not blind me ! 
I have deserved that an Egyptian night 
Should thicken all my powers ; because my lust 
Hath still sew'd fig-leaves to exclude thy light : 
But I am frailty, and already dust : 

O do not grind me ! 



O do not fill me 
With the turn'd vial of thy bitter wrath ! 
For thou hast other vessels full of blood, 
A part whereof my Saviour emptied hath, 
Even unto death : since he died for my good, 

O do not kill me ! 



24 



But O, reprieve me ! 
For thou hast life and death at thy command ; 
Thou art both Judge and Saviour, feast and rod, 
Cordial and Corrosive : put not thy hand 
Into the bitter box ; but, O my God, 

My God, relieve me ! 



^&1&^ 




THE WORLD. 

LOVE built a stately house ; where Fortune came : 
And spinning fancies, she was heard to say, 
That her fine cobwebs did support the frame, 
Whereas they were supported by the same : 
But Wisdom quickly swept them all away. 

Then Pleasure came, who, liking not the fashion, 
Began to make Balconies, Terraces, 
Till she had weaken'd all by alteration : 



i 



\£ 



The Church. 

But reverend laws, and many a proclamation 
Reformed all at length with menaces. 



83 



Then enter'd Sin, and with that Sycamore, 

Whose leaves first shelter' d man from drought and dew, 

Working and winding slily evermore, 

The inward walls and summers cleft and tore : 

But Grace shored these, and cut that as it grew. 15 

Then Sin combined with Death in a firm band, 

To raze the building to the very floor : 

Which they effected, none could them withstand ; 

But Love and Grace took Glory by the hand, 

And built a braver palace than before. 20 



%5# 



COLOSSIANS III. 3. 

" OUR LIFE IS HID WITH CHRIST IN GOD." 

My words and thoughts do both express this notion, 
That Life hath with the sun a double motion. 
The first Is straight, and our diurnal friend ; 
The other Hid, and doth obliquely bend. 
One life is wrapt hi flesh, and tends to earth : 5 
The other winds towardHim, whose happy birth 
Taught me to live here so, That still one eye 
Should aim and shoot at that which Is on high ; 
Quitting with daily labour all My pleasure, 
To gain at harvest an eternal Treasure. 10 



84 The Temple. 



VANITY. 

THE fleet Astronomer can bore 
And thread the spheres with his quick-piercing mind : 
He views their stations, walks from door to door, 

Surveys, as if he had design'd 
To make a purchase there : he sees their dances, 

And knoweth long before, 
Both their full-eyed aspects, and secret glances, 7 

The nimble Diver with his side 
Cuts through the working waves, that he may fetch 
His dearly-earned pearl, which God did hide 
On purpose from the vent'rous wretch ; 
That he might save his life, and also hers, 
Who with excessive pride 
s| Her own destruction and his danger wears. u 

The subtle (Thymic can divest 
And strip the creature naked, till he find 
The callow principles within their nest : 

There he imparts to them his mind, 
Admitted to their bed-chamber, before 

They appear trim and drest 
To ordinary suitors at the door. 21 

What hath not man sought out and found, 
But his dear God ? who yet his glorious law 
Embosoms in us, mellowing the ground 

With showers and frosts, with love and awe ; 
So that we need not say, Where's this command ? 

Poor man ! thou searchest round 
To find out death, but missest life at hand. 




r v 






- . 



;. /v - 



ELCOME, dear feast of Lent : who loves not thee, 
He loves not Temperance, or Authority, 

But is composed of passion. 
The Scriptures bid us fast ; the Church says, Now : 
Give to thy Mother what thou wouldst allow 

To every Corporation. * 

The humble soul, composed of love and fear, 
Begins at home, and lays the burden there, 

When doctrines disagree : 
He says, In things which use hath justly got, 
I am a scandal to the Church, and not 

The Church is so to me. 1J 

True Christians should be glad of an occasion 
To use their temperance, seeking no evasion, 

When good is seasonable ; 
Unless Authority, which should increase 
The obligation in us, make it less, 

And Power itself disable. 1J 



yr^ Besides the cleanness of sweet abstinence, 
^ Quick thoughts and motions at a small expense, 
A face not fearing light : 
; <£ |fe Whereas in fulness there are sluttish fumes, 
jSf^ Sour exhalations, and dishonest rheums, 
flyfi^ Revenging the delight. 



24 



86 The Temple. 



HEN those same pendent profits, which the spring 
And Easter intimate, enlarge the thing, 

And goodness of the deed. 
Neither ought other men's abuse of Lent 
Spoil the good use ; lest by that argument 

We forfeit all our Creed. 

'Tis true, we cannot reach Christ's fortieth day ; 
Yet to go part of that religious way 

Is better than to rest : 
We cannot reach our Saviour's purity ; 
Yet are we bid, Be holy even as he. 

In both let's do our best. 

Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone, 
Is much more sure to meet with him, than one 

That travelleth by-ways. 
Perhaps my God, though he be far before, 
May turn, and take me by the hand, and more, 

May strengthen my decays. 

Yet, Lord, instruct us to improve our fast 
By starving sin, and taking such repast 

As may our faults control : 
That every man may revel at his door, 
Not in his parlour ; banqueting the poor, 

And among those his soul. 48 





The Church. %J 

VIRTUE. 

WEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 
The bridal of the earth and sky, 

The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; 
For thou must die. 



Sweet Rose, whose hue angry and brave 
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, 
Thy root is ever in its grave, 

And thou must die. 



Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, 
A box where sweets compacted lie, 
My Music shows ye have your closes, 
And all must die. 

Only a sweet and virtuous soul, 
Like season'd timber, never gives ; 
But though the whole world turn to coal, 
Then chiefly lives. 

^^^^^^^ 

THE PEARL. 

MATT. XIII. 
T KNOW the ways of Learning ; both the head 
•*• And Pipes that feed the press, and make it run ; 
What Reason hath from Nature borrowed, 
Or of itself, like a good housewife, spun 
In laws and policy ; what the stars conspire, 
What willing Nature speaks, what forced by fire ; 
Both th' old discoveries, and the new-found seas, 



88 The Temple. 

!|ff HE stock and surplus, cause* and history : 
All these stand open, or I have the keys : 

Yet I love thee. 10 

I know the ways of Honour, what maintains 

The quick returns of courtesy and wit : 

In vies of favours whether party gains, 

When glory swells the heart, and mouldeth it 

To all expressions both of hand and eye, 15 

Which on the world a true-love-knot may tie, 

And bear the bundle, wheresoe'er it goes : 

How many drams of spirit there must be 

To sell my life unto my friends or foes : 

Yet I love thee. 20 

I know the ways of Pleasure, the sweet strains, 
The lullings and the relishes of it ; 
The propositions of hot blood and brains ; 
What mirth and music mean ; what love and wit 
Have done these twenty hundred years, and more : 25 
I know the projects of unbridled store : 
My stuff is flesh, not brass ; my senses live, 
And grumble oft, that they have more in me 
Than he that curbs them, being but one to five : 
Yet I love thee. 

I know all these, and have them in my hand : 

Therefore not sealed, but with open eyes 

T fly to thee, and fully understand 

Both the main sale, and the commodities ; 

And at what rate and price I have thy love ; 35 

With all the circumstances that may move : 

Yet through the labyrinths, not my grovelling wit, 

But thy silk-twist let down from heaven to me, 

Did both conduct and teach me, how by it 

To climb to thee. 40 



The Church. 



AFFLICTION. 

BROKEN in pieces all asunder, 
Lord, hunt me not, 
A thing forgot, 
Once a poor creature, now a wonder, 
A wonder tortured in the space 
Betwixt this world and that of grace. 

My thoughts are all a case of knives, 
Wounding my heart 
With scatter'd smart ; 
As wat'ring-pots give flowers their lives. 
Nothing their fury can control, 
While they do wound and prick my soul. 

All my attendants are at strife, 
Quitting their place 
Unto my face : 
Nothing performs the task of life : 
The elements are let loose to fight, 
And while I live, try out their right. 

Oh, help, my God ! let not their plot 
Kill them and me, 
And also thee, 
Who art my life : dissolve the knot, 
As the sun scatters by his light 
All the rebellions of the night. 

Then shall those powers, which work for grief, 
Enter thy pay, 
And day by day 
Labour thy praise and my relief ; 

With care and courage building me, 

Till I reach heaven, and much more, thee. 



24 




MAN. 




Y God, I heard this day, 
That none doth build a stately habitation 
But he that means to dwell therein. 
What house more stately hath there been, 
Or can be, than is Man ? to whose creation 
All things are in decay. 

For Man is every thing, 
And more : He is a tree, yet bears no fruit ; 
A beast, yet is, or should be more : 
Reason and speech we only bring. 
Parrots may thank us, if they are not mute, 
They go upon the score. 

Man is all symmetry, 
Full of proportions, one limb to another, 
And all to all the world besides : 
Each part may call the farthest, brother : 
For head with foot hath private amity, 

And both with moons and tides. 

Nothing hath got so far, 
But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey 
His eyes dismount the highest star : 
He is in little all the sphere. 
Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they 
Find their acquaintance there. 



The Church. 91 

rOR us the winds do blow ; 
The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow. 
Nothing we see, but means our good, 
As our delight, or as our treasure: 
The whole is, either our cupboard oifood, 

Or cabinet of pleasure. 30 

The stars have us to bed ; 
)[V Night draws the curtain, which the Sun withdraws : 
Music and light attend our head. 
All things unto our flesh are kind 
In their descent and being ; to our mind 

In their ascent and cause. 36 

Each thing is full of duty ; 
Waters united are our navigation ; 
Distinguished,* our habitation ; 
Below, our drink ; above, our meat : 
Both are our cleanliness. Hath one such beauty ? 

Then how are all things neat ! 42 

More servants wait on Man, 
Than he '11 take notice of : in every path 

He treads down that which doth befriend him, 
When sickness makes him pale and wan. 
Oh, mighty love ! Man is one world, and hath 

Another to attend him. 48 

Since then, my God, thou hast 
So brave a Palace built ; O dwell in it, 
That it may dwell with thee at last ! 
Till then, afford us so much wit, 
That, as the world serves us, we may serve thee, 

And both thy servants be. 54 

* " Distinguished," i.e., when marked by an island. 





ANTIPHON. 

RAISED be the God of love, 
Men. Here below, 
Angels. And here above : 



Chor. Who hath dealt his mercies so, 
Ang. To his friend, 
Men. And to his foe ; 

Chor. That both grace and glory tend 
Ang. Us of old, 
Men. And us in the end. 

Chor. The great Shepherd of the fold 
Ang. Us did make, 
Men. For us was sold. 

Chor. He our foes in pieces brake : 
ANG. Him we touch ; 
Men. And him we take. 

CHOR. Wherefore since that he is such, 
Ang. We adore, 
Men. And we do crouch. 

Chor. Lord, thy praises shall be more. 
Men. We have none, 
Ang. And we no store. 

Chor. Praised be the God alone 

Who hath made of two folds one. 



The Church, 93 

UNKINDNESS. 

ORD, make me coy and tender to offend : 
- In friendship, first I think, if that agree, 
Which I intend, 
Unto my friend's intent and end. 
I would not use a friend, as I use Thee. 5 

If any touch my friend, or his good name, 
It is my honour and my love to free 

His blasted fame 
From the least spot or thought of blame. 
I could not use a friend, as I use Thee. 10 

^4 My friend may spit upon my curious floor : 
Would he have gold ? I lend it instantly ; 
But let the poor, 
And thou within them, starve at door. 
I cannot use a friend, as I use Thee. 15 

When that my friend pretendeth to a place, 
I quit my interest, and leave it free : 

But when thy grace 
Sues for my heart, I thee displace ; 
Nor would I use a friend, as I use Thee. 20 

Yet can a friend what Thou hast done fulfil ? 
O write in brass, My God upon a tree 

His blood did spill, 
Only to purchase my good-will : 
Yet use I not my foes, as I use Thee. 25 



ry 




& 



*%$ 



The Temple. 









LIFE. 

¥ MADE a posie, while the day ran by : 

<sA Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie 

My life within this band. 
But time did beckon to the flowers, and they 
By noon most cunningly did steal away, 

And wither d in my hand. 

My hand was next to them, and then my heart ; 
I took, without more thinking, in good part 

Time's gentle admonition ; 
Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey, 
Making my mind to smell my fatal day, 

Yet sugaring the suspicion. 

Farewell, dear flowers, sweetly your time ye spent, 
Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament, 

And after death for cures. 
I follow straight without complaints or grief, 
Since if my scent be good, I care not if 

It be as short as yours. 



SUBMISSION. 

ff^UT that thou art my wisdom, Lord, 
<|3 And both mine eyes are thine, 
My mind would be extremely stirr'd 
For missing my design. 

Were it not better to bestow 
Some place and power on me ? 

Then should thy praises with me grow, 
And share in mv degree. 



The Church. 95 

lg|UT when I thus dispute and grieve, 
njj I do resume my sight ; 

And pilfering what I once did give, 
Disseize thee of thy right. 

How know I, if thou shouldst me raise, 

That I should then raise thee ? 
Perhaps great places and thy praise 

Do not so well agree. 1( > 

Wherefore unto my gift I stand ; 

I will no more advise : 
Only do thou lend me a hand, 

Since thou hast both mine eyes. 

JUSTICE. 

CANNOT skill of these thy ways : 

Lord, thou didst make me, yet thoit woundest me: 
Lo7'd, thou dost wound me, yet thou dost relieve me : 
Lord, thou relievest, yet I die by thee : 
Lord, thou dost kill me, yet thou dost reprieve me. 5 

But when I mark my life and praise, 

Thy justice me most fitly pays : 
For, I do praise thee, yet I praise thee not : 
My prayers mean thee, yet my prayers stray : 
I would do well, yet sin the hand hath got : 
My soul doth love thee, yet it loves delay. 

I cannot skill of these my ways. 12 




CHARMS AND KNOTS. 

'HO read a Chapter when they rise, 

Shall ne'er be troubled with ill eyes. 

A poor man's rod, when thou dost ride, 
Is both a weapon and a guide. 

Who shuts his hand, hath lost his gold ; 
Who opens it, hath it twice told. 

Who goes to bed, and doth not pray, 
Maketh two nights to every day. 

Who by aspersions throw a stone 
At th' head of others, hit their own. 

Who looks on ground with humble eyes, 
Finds himself there, and seeks to rise. 

When th' hair is sweet through pride or lust, 
The powder doth forget the dust. 

Take one from ten, and what remains ? 
Ten still, if Sermons go for gains. 

In shallow waters heaven doth show : 
But who drinks on, to hell may go. 



18 



^p<^mm 




AFFLICTION. 



?Y God, I read this day, 
That planted Paradise was not so firm 
As was and is thy floating Ark ; whose stay 
And anchor thou art only, to confirm 
And strengthen it in every age, 
When waves do rise, and tempests rage. 6 

At first we lived in pleasure ; 
Thine own delights thou didst to us impart : 
When we grew wanton, thou didst use displeasure 
To make us thine : yet that we might not part, 

As we at first did board with thee, 

Now thou wouldst taste our misery. 12 



There is but joy and grief; 

If either will convert us, we are thine : 

Some angels used the first ; if our relief 

'0 Take up the second, then thy double line 

And several baits in either kind 

Furnish thy table to thy mind. 



18 



Affliction then is ours ; 
We are the trees, whom shaking fastens more, 
While blustering winds destroy the wanton bowers, 
And ruffle all their curious knots and store. 

My God, so temper joy and woe, 

That thy bright beams may tame thy bow. 2 



MORTIFICATION. 

B OW soon doth man decay ! 
9 When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets 
To swaddle infants, whose young breath 

Scarce knows the way ; 
Those clouts are little winding-sheets, 
Which do consign and send them unto death. 

When boys go first to bed, 
They step into their voluntary graves ; 

Sleep binds them fast ; only their breath 
Makes them not dead. 

Successive nights, like rolling waves, 
Convey them quickly, who are bound for death. 

When youth is frank and free, 
And calls for music, while his veins do swell, 

All day exchanging mirth and breath 
In company ; 

That music summons to the knell, 
Which shall befriend him at the house of death. 

When man grows staid and wise, 
Getting a house and home, where he may move 

Within the circle of his breath, 
Schooling his eyes ; 

That dumb enclosure maketh love 
Unto the coffin, that attends his death. 

When age grows low and weak, 
Marking his grave, and thawing every year, 
Till all do melt, and drown his breath 



12 



24 



The Church. 99 

When he would speak ; 
A chair or litter shows the bier 
Which shall convey him to the house of death. 80 

Man, ere he is aware, 
Hath put together a solemnity, 

And dress' d his hearse, while he has breath 
As yet to spare. 

Yet, Lord, instruct us so to die, 
That all these dyings may be life in death. S6 




DECAY. 

^WEET were the days, when thou didst lodge with Lot' 

f Struggle with Jacobs sit with Gideon , 

Advise with Abraham, when thy power could not 
Encounter Mosei strong complaints and moan : 

Thy words were then, Let me alone. 5 

One might have sought and found thee presently 
At some fair oak, or bush, or cave, or well : 
Is my God this way ? No, they would reply ; 
He is to Sinai gone, as we heard tell : 

List, ye may hear great Aaron! s bell. 10 

But now thou dost thyself immure and close 
In some one corner of a feeble heart : 
Where yet both Sin and Satan, thy old foes, 
Do pinch and straiten thee, and use much art 

To gain thy thirds and little part. 15 



IOO 



The Temple. 



I see the world grows old, when as the heat 
Of thy great love once spread, as in an urn 
Doth closet up itself, and still retreat, 
Cold sin still forcing it, till it return, 

And calling Justice, all things burn. 




MISERY. 

ORD, let the Angels praise thy name. 
3 Man is a foolish thing, a foolish thing ; 
Folly and Sin play all his game. 
His house still burns ; and yet he still doth sing, 
Man is but grass , 
He knows it, fill the glass. 

How canst thou brook his foolishness ? 
Why, he '11 not lose a cup of drink for thee :• 

Bid him but temper his excess ; 
Not he : he knows, where he can better be, 
As he will swear, 
Than to serve thee in fear. 13 

What strange pollutions doth he wed, 
And make his own ? as if none knew, but he. 

No man shall beat into his head 
That thou within his curtains drawn canst see : 
They are of cloth, 
Where never yet came moth. 18 



The Church. 101 

The best of men, turn but thy hand 
For one poor minute, stumble at a pin : 

They would not have their actions scann'd, 
Nor any sorrow tell them that they sin, 
Though it be small, 
And measure not their fall. u 

They quarrel thee, and would give over 
The bargain made to serve thee : but thy love 

Holds them unto it, and doth cover 
Their follies with the wing of thy mild Dove, 
Not suffering those 
Who would, to be thy foes. 30 

My God, Man cannot praise thy name : 
Thou art all brightness, perfect purity ; 

The Sun holds down his head for shame, 
Dead with eclipses, when we speak of thee. 
How shall infection 
Presume on thy perfection ? 36 

As dirty hands foul all they touch, 
And those things most, which are most pure and fine : 

So our clay hearts, even when we crouch 
To sing thy praises, make them less divine. 
Yet either this 
Or none thy portion is. 42 

Man cannot serve thee ; let him go 
And serve the swine : there, there is his delight : 

He doth not like this virtue, no ; 
Give him his dirt to wallow in all night ; 
These Preachers make 
His head to shoot and ache. 48 



102 The Temple. 

FOOLISH man ! where are thine eyes ? 
How hast thou lost them in a crowd of cares ? 

Thou pull'st the rug, and wilt not rise, 
No, not to purchase the whole pack of stars : 
There let them shine, 
Thou must go sleep, or dine. 54 

The bird that sees a dainty bower 
Made in the tree, where she was wont to sit, 

Wonders and sings, but not his power 
Who made the arbour : this exceeds her wit. 
But Man doth know 
The spring whence all things flow : 



60 



And yet, as though he knew it not, 
His knowledge winks, and lets his humours reign : 

They make his life a constant blot, 
And all the blood of God to run in vain. 
Ah, wretch ! what verse 
Can thy strange ways rehearse ? 

Indeed at first Man was a treasure, 
A box of jewels, shop of rarities, 

A ring, whose posie was, My pleasure : 
He was a garden in a Paradise : 
Glory and grace 
, Did crown his heart and face. 72 

But sin hath fool'd him. Now he is 
A lump of flesh, without a foot or wing 
To raise him to the glimpse of bliss : 
A sick toss'd vessel, dashing on each thing ; 
Nay, his own shelf: 
My God, I mean myself. 78 



JORDAN. 

fejnfHEN first my lines of heavenly joys made 
^M> mention, 

Such was their lustre, they did so excel, 
That I sought out quaint words, and trim invention ; 
My thoughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell, 
Curling with metaphors a plain intention, 
Decking the sense, as if it were to sell. 



Thousands of notions in my brain did run, 

Offering their service, if I were not sped : 

I often blotted what I had begun ; 

This was not quick enough, and that was dead. 

Nothing could seem too rich to clothe the Sun, 

Much less those joys which trample on his head. 

As flames do work and wind, when they ascend ; 
So did I weave myself into the sense. 
But while I bustled,. I might hear a friend 
Whisper, How wide is all this lo7ig 'pretence ! 
There is in love a sweetness ready ft enri d : 
Copy out only that, and save exftense. 




12 




PRAYER. 

if^F what an easy quick access, 

My blessed Lord, art thou ! how suddenly 

May our requests thine ear invade ! 
To show that state dislikes not easiness, 
If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made : 
Thou canst no more not hear, than thou canst 
die. 6 

Of what supreme Almighty power 
Is thy great arm which spans the East and West, 

And tacks the Centre to the Sphere ! 
By it do all things live their measured hour : 
We cannot ask the thing, which is not there, 
Blaming the shallowness of our request ]2 

Of what un measurable love 
Art thou possest, who, when thou couldst not die, 
Weft fain to take our flesh and curse, 
And for our sakes in person sin reprove ; 
That by destroying that which tied thy purse, 
Thou might'st make way for liberality ! 18 

Since then these three wait on thy throne, 
Ease j Power, and Love ; I value Prayer so, 

That were I to leave all but one, 
Wealth, fame, endowments, virtues, all should go ; 
I and dear Prayer would together dwell, 
And quickly gain, for each inch lost, an ell. 24 



The Church. 



ios 



OBEDIENCE. 



Y God, if writings may 

Convey a lordship any way 
Whither the buyer and the seller please ; 

Let it not thee displease ; 
If this poor paper do as much as they. 



On it my heart doth bleed 
As many lines, as there doth need 
To pass itself and all it hath to thee. 

To which I do agree, 
And here present it as my special deed. 10 

If that hereafter Pleasure 
Cavil, and claim her part and measure, 
As if this passed with a reservation, 

Or some such words in fashion ; 
I here exclude the wrangler from thy treasure. 15 
w j 
• \ O let thy sacred will 

All thy delight in me fulfil ! 
Let me not think an action mine own way, 

But as thy love shall sway, 
Resigning up the rudder to thy skill. 



20 



Lord, what is man to thee, 
That thou shouldst mind a rotten tree ? 
Yet since thou canst not choose but see my actions ; 

So great are thy perfections, 
Thou may' st, as well my actions guide, as see. 25 



106 The Temple. 

Besides, thy death and blood 

Show'd a strange love to all our good : 

Thy sorrows were in earnest ; no faint proffer, 

Or superficial offer 
Of what we might not take, or be withstood. 

Wherefore I all forego : 
To one word only I say, No : 
Where in the deed there was an intimation 

Of a gift or donatioii^ 
Lord, let it now by way of purchase go. 

He that will pass his land, 
As I have mine, may set his hand 
And heart unto this deed, when he hath read ; 

And make the purchase spread 
To both our goods, if he to it will stand. 

How happy were my part, 
If some kind man would thrust his heart 
Into these lines ; till in Heaven's court of rolls 

They were by winged souls 
Enter' d for both, far above their desert ! 



30 



35 



45 




The Church. 



107 




CONSCIENCE. 

EACE, prattler, do not lour : 

Not a fair look, but thou dost call it foul : 
Not a sweet dish, but thou dost call it sour : 
Music to thee doth howl. 
By listening to thy chatting fears 
I have both lost mine eyes and ears. 6 



Prattler, no more, I say : 
My thoughts must work, but like a noiseless sphere. 
Harmonious peace must rock them all the day : 
No room for prattlers there. 
If thou persistest, I will tell thee, 
That I have physic to expel thee. 



% 



§ 



12 



And the receipt shall be 
My Saviour's blood : whenever at his board 
I do but taste it, straight it cleanseth me, 
And leaves thee not a word ; 
No, not a tooth or nail to scratch, 
And at my actions carp, or catch. 

Yet if thou talkest still, 
Besides my physic, know there's some for thee : 
Some wood and nails to make a staff or bill 
For those that trouble me : 
The bloody cross of my dear Lord 
Is both my physic and my sword. 



24 



io8 The Temple, 



SION. 

ORD, with what glory wast thou served of old, 
When Solomon's temple stood and flourished ! 
Where most things were of purest gold ; 

The wood was all embellished 
With flowers and carvings, mystical and rare : 
All show'd the builder's, craved the seer's care. 

Yet all this glory, all this pomp and state, 
Did not affect thee much, was not thy aim ; 

Something there was that sow'd debate : 
Wherefore thou quitt'st thy ancient claim : 

And now thy Architecture meets with sin ; 

For all thy frame and fabric is within. 12 

There thou art struggling with a peevish heart, 
Which sometimes crosseth thee, thou sometimes it : 

The fight is hard on either part. 

Great God doth fight, he doth submit. 

All Solomon's sea of brass and world of stone 

Is not so dear to thee as one good groan. 18 

And truly brass and stones are heavy things, 
Tombs for the dead, not temples fit for thee : 

But groans are quick, and full of wings, 
And all their motions upward be ; 

And ever as they mount, like larks they sing : 

The note is sad, yet music for a king. 24 



Mb 



HOME. 

»OME, Lord, my head doth burn, my heart is sick, 
While thou dost ever, ever stay : 
Thy t long deferrings wound me to the quick, 
My spirit gaspeth night and day. 
O show thyself to me, 
Or take me up to thee ! 

How canst thou stay, considering the pace 

The blood did make, which thou didst waste ? 

When I behold it trickling down thy face, 
I never saw thing make such haste. 

O show thyself, &c. 1X 

When man was lost, thy pity look'd about, 
To see what help in th' earth or sky : 

But there was none ; at least no help without : 
The help did in thy bosom lie. 

O show thyself, &c. 16 

There lay thy Son : and must he leave that nest, 

That hive of sweetness, to remove 
Thraldom from those, who would not at a feast 

Leave one poor apple for thy love ? 

O show thyself, &c. 21 

He did, he came : O my Redeemer dear, 
After all this canst thou be strange ? 

So many years baptized, and not appear ; 
As if thy love could fail or change ? 

O show thyself, &c. 26 






no The Temple. 

TET if thou stayest still, why must I stay ? 
My God, what is this world to me ? 
This world of woe ? Hence, all ye clouds, away, 
Away ; I must get up and see. 

O show thyself, &c. S1 

What is this weary world ; this meat and drink, 
That chains us by the teeth so fast ? 

What is this woman-kind, which I can wink 
Into a blackness and distaste ? 

O show thyself, &c. S6 

With one small sigh thou gav'st me th' other day 

I blasted all the joys about me : 
And scowling on them as they pined away, 

Now come again, said I, and flout me. 

O show thyself, &c. 41 

Nothing but drought and dearth, but bush and brake, 

Which way soe'er I look, I see. 
Some may dream merrily, but when they wake, 

They dress themselves and come to thee. 

O show thyself, &c. 46 

We talk of harvests ; there are no such things, 
But when we leave our corn and hay : 

There is no fruitful year, but that which brings 
The last and loved, though dreadful day. 

O show thyself, &c. 51 

O loose this frame, this knot of man untie, 
That my free soul may use her wing, 

Which now is pinion'd with mortality, 
As an entangled, hamper' d thing. 

O show thyself, &c. 56 



The Church. 



ill 



sHAT have I left, that I should stay and groan ? 
The most of me to heaven is fled : 
My thoughts and joys are all pack'd up and gone, 
And for their old acquaintance plead. 

O show thyself, &c 61 

Come, dearest Lord, pass not this holy season, 

My flesh and bones and joints do pray : 
And even my verse, when by the rhyme and reason 
The word is Stay, says ever, Come. 
O show thyself to me, 
Or take me up to thee ! 67 



THE BRITISH CHURCH. 

JOY, dear Mother, when I view 

Thy perfect lineaments and hue 

Both sweet and bright : 
Beauty in thee takes up her place, 
And dates her letters from thy face, 

When she doth write. 

A fine aspect in fit array, 

Neither too mean, nor yet too gay, 

Shows who is best : 
Outlandish looks may not compare ; 
For all they either painted are, 

Or else undrest. 

She on the hills, which wantonly 
Allureth all in hope to be 
By her preferr'd, 



12 



n 



The Temple. 

ATH kiss'd so long her painted shrines, 
That even her face by kissing shines, 
For her reward. 



She in the valley is so shy 

Of dressing, that her hair doth lie 

About her ears : 
While she avoids her neighbour's pride, 
She wholly goes on th' other side, 

And nothing wears. 

But, dearest Mother (what those miss), 
The mean thy praise and glory is, 

And long may be. 
Blessed be God, whose love it was 
To double-moat thee with his grace, 

And none but thee. 



24 



30 



THE QUIP. 

^HE merry world did on a day 

vSP With his train-bands and mates agree 

To meet together, where I lay, 

And all in sport to jeer at me. 

First, Beauty crept into a Rose ; 
Which when I pluck'd not, Sir, said she, 
Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those ? 
But thou shalt answer, Lord \ for me. 

Then Money came, and chinking still, 
What tune is this, poor man ? said he : 
I heard in Music you had skill : 
But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. 



The Church. 

*HEN came brave Glory puffing by 
In silks that whistled, who but he ! 
He scarce allow'd me half an eye : 
But thoit shalt answer, Lord, for me. 

Then came quick Wit and Conversation, 
And he would needs a comfort be, 
And, to be short, make an oration. 
But thou shalt answer •, Lord, for me. 

Yet when the hour of thy design 
To answer these fine things shall come ; 
Speak not at large, say, I am thine, 
And then they have their answer home. 



113 



VANITY. 

?p)OOR silly soul, whose hope and head lies low ; 
eX> Whose flat delights on earth do creep and grow : 
To whom the stars shine not so fair, as eyes ; 
Nor solid work, as false embroideries ; 
Hark and beware, lest what you now do measure, 
And write for sweet, prove a most sour displeasure. 
O hear betimes, lest thy relenting 

May come too late ! 
To purchase heaven for repenting 

Is no hard rate. 
If souls be made of earthly mould, 

Let them love gold ; 12 

If born on high, 
Let them unto their kindred fly : 
H 



114 



The Temple. 



For they can never be at rest, 
Till they regain their ancient nest. 
Then, silly soul, take heed ; for earthly joy 
Is but a bubble, and makes thee a boy. 



18 




THE DAWNING. 

WAKE, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns : 
Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth, 
Unfold thy forehead gather" d into frowns : 
Thy Saviour comes, and with him mirth : 
2$* 5 Awake, awake ; 

And with a thankful heart his comforts 
take. 
But thou dost still lament, and pine, and cry ; 
And feel his death, but not his victory. 

Arise, sad heart ; if thou dost not withstand, 

Christ's resurrection thine may be : 
Do not by hanging down break from the hand, 
Which, as it riseth, raiseth thee : 
Arise, arise ; 
And with his burial-linen dry thine eyes. 

Christ left his grave-clothes, that we might, when 

grief 
Draws tears, or blood, not want a handkerchief. 16 



^s^s^-^- 



JESU. 

JESU is in my heart, his sacred name 
Is deeply carved there : but th' other week 
A great affliction broke the little frame, 
Even all to pieces ; which I went to seek : 

And first I found the corner where was J, 
After, where ES, and next where U was graved. 
When I had got these parcels, instantly 
I sat me down to spell them, and perceived 
That to my broken heart he was I ease you, 
And to my whole is JESU. 



BUSINESS. 



^jANST be idle ? canst thou play, 
I M Foolish soul, who sinn'd to-day ? 

Rivers run, and springs each one 
Know their home, and get them gone : 
Hast thou tears, or hast thou none ? 

If, poor soul, thou hast no tears, 
Would thou hadst no faults or fears ! 
Who hath these, those ills forbears. 

Winds still work : it is their plot, 

Be the season cold or hot : 

Hast thou sighs, or hast thou not ? 



11 



The Temple. 

?F thou hast no sighs or groans, 

Would thou hadst no flesh and bones ! 
Lesser pains 'scape greater ones. 

But if yet thou idle be, 

Foolish soul, who died for thee ? 

Who did leave his Father's throne, 
To assume thy flesh and bone ? 
Had he life, or had he none ? 

If he had not lived for thee, 
Thou hadst died most wretchedly ; 
And two deaths had been thy fee. 

He so far thy good did plot, 
That his own self he forgot. 
Did he die, or did he not ? 

If he had not died for thee, 
Thou hadst lived in misery. 
Two lives worse than ten deaths be. 

And hath any space of breath 
'Twixt his sins and Saviour's death? 

He that loseth gold, though dross, 
Tells to all he meets, his cross : 
He that sins, hath he no loss ? 

He that finds a silver vein, 
Thinks on it, and thinks again : 
Brings thy Saviour's death no gain ? 

Who in heart not ever kneels, 
Neither sin nor Saviour feels. 



16 



22 



33 




DIALOGUE. 

^fWEETEST Saviour^ if my soul 
p% Were but worth the having, 
Quickly should I then control 
Any thought of waving. 
But when all my care and pains 
Cannot give the name of gains 
To thy wretch so full of stains ; 
What delight or hope remains ? 

What (Child)) is the balance thine? 

Thine the poise and measure? 
If I say, Thou shalt be mine. 

Finger not my treasure. 
What the gains in having thee 
Do amount to, only he. 
Who for man was sold, can see, 
That transferred the accounts to me. 

But as I can see no merit, 

Leading to this favour : 
So the way to fit me for it, 

Is beyond my savour. 
As the reason then is thine ; 
So the way is none of mine : 
I disclaim the whole design : 
Sin disclaims and I resign. 

That is all, if that I could 
Get without repining ; 



u 



n8 The Temple. 

And my clay my creature would 

Follow my resigning : 
That as I did freely part 
With my glory and desert, 

Left all joys to feel all smart 

Ah ! no more : thou break' st my heart. 

/m^ DULNESS. 

■jHY do I languish thus, drooping and dull. 
As if I were all earth ? 
O give me quickness, that I may with mirth 
Praise thee brimful ! 



n 



The wanton lover in a curious strain 
Can praise his fairest fair ; 
And with quaint metaphors her curled hair 
Curl o'er again : 

Thou art my loveliness, my life, my light, 

Beauty alone to me : 
Thy bloody death and undeserved, makes thee 
Pure red and white. 

When all perfections as but one appear, 

That those thy form doth show, 
The very dust, where thou dost tread and go, 

Makes beauties here ; 1 

Where are my lines then ? my approaches ? views ? 
Where are my window-songs ? 
^ Lovers are still pretending, and even wrongs 
Sharpen their Muse. 



The Church. 119 

> UT I am lost in flesh, whose sugar'd lies 
Still mock me, and grow bold : 
Sure thou didst put a mind there, if I could 

Find where it lies. 24 

Lord, clear thy gift, that with a constant wit 

I may but look towards thee : 
Look only ; for to love thee, who can be, 

What angel, fit ? 2 * 




LOVE-JOY. 

„ 3f S on a window late I cast mine eye, 
.,jp*fe I saw a y i ne drop grapes with J and C 
mi ^ Anneal' d on every bunch. One standing by 
Ask'd what it meant. I (who am never loth 
To spend my judgment) said, it seem'd to me 
To be the body and the letters both 
Of Joy and Charity. Sir, you have not miss'd, 
The man replied ; It figures Jesus Christ. 




PROVIDENCE. 




jffjlft SACRED Providence, who from end to end 
igaj Strongly and sweetly movest ! shall I write, 

And not of thee, through whom my fingers bend 
To hold my quill ? shall they not do thee right ? 

Of all the creatures both in sea and land, 
M\ Only to Man thou hast made known thy ways, 
m And put the pen alone into his hand, 
^ And made him Secretary of thy praise. 

Beasts fain would sing ; birds ditty to their notes ; 
Trees would be tuning on their native lute 
To thy renown : but all their hands and throats 
Are brought to Man, while they are lame and mute. 

Man is the world's High Priest : he doth present 
The sacrifice for all ; while they below 
Unto the service mutter an assent, 
|PJ Such as springs use that fall, and winds that blow. 16 

kl* He that to praise and laud thee doth refrain, 
Doth not refrain unto himself alone, 
But robs a thousand who would praise thee fain ; 
And doth commit a world of sin in one. 

The beasts say, Eat me ; but, if beasts must teach, 
The tongue is yours to eat, but mine to praise. 
The trees say, Pull me : but the hand you stretch 
Is mine to write, as it is yours to raise. 24 



The Church. 12 1 

Wherefore, most sacred Spirit, I here present 
For me and all my fellows praise to thee : 
And just it is that I should pay the rent, 
Because the benefit accrues to me. 

We all acknowledge both thy power and love 

To be exact, transcendent, and divine ; 

Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move, 

While all things have their will, yet none but thine. 32 

For either thy command, or thy permission^ 
Lay hands on all : they are thy right and left : 
The first puts on with speed and expedition ; 
The other curbs sin's stealing pace and theft ; 

Nothing escapes them both : all must appear, 
And be disposed, and dress'd, and tuned by thee, 
Who sweetly temper'st all. If we could hear 
Thy skill and art, what music would it be ! 40 

Thou art in small things great, not small in any : 
Thy even praise can neither rise nor fall. 
Thou art in all things one, in each thing many : 
For thou art infinite in one and all. 

Tempests are calm to thee, they know thy hand, 
And hold it fast, as children do their father's, 
Which cry and follow. Thou hast made poor sand 
Check the proud sea, even when it swells and gathers. 

Thy cupboard serves the world : the meat is set 
Where all may reach : no beast but knows his feed. 
Birds teach us hawking : fishes have their net : 
The great prey on the less, they on some weed. 



122 The Temple. 

! |1S 1 0THING engender' d doth prevent his meat ; 
JJ J Flies have their table spread, ere they appear ; 
'A m Some creatures have in winter what to eat ; 

Others do sleep, and envy not their cheer. 56 

How finely dost thou times and seasons spin, # 
And make a twist checker'd with night and day ! 
Which as it lengthens, winds, and winds us in, 
As bowls go on, but turning all the way. 

Each creature hath a wisdom for his good. 
The pigeons feed their tender offspring crying, 
When they are callow ; but withdraw their food, 
When they are fledged, that need may teach them 
flying. 64 

Bees work for man ; and yet they never bruise 
Their master s flower, but leave it, having done, 
As fair as ever, and as fit to use : 
So both the flower doth stay, and honey run. 

Sheep eat the grass, and dung the ground for more : 
Trees after bearing drop their leaves for soil : 
Springs vent their streams, and by expense get store : 
Clouds cool by heat, and baths by cooling boil. ^2 

WHO hath the virtue to express the rare 
And curious virtues both of herbs and stones ? 
Is there an herb for that ? O that thy care 
W T ould show a root, that gives expressions ! 

And if an herb hath power, what have the stars ? 
A rose, besides his beauty, is a cure. 
Doubtless our plagues and plenty, peace and wars, 
Are there much surer than our art is sure. 80 



The Church. 123 

Thou hast hid metals : man may take them thence ; 
But at his peril : when he digs the place, 
He makes a grave : as if the thing had sense, 
And threaten' d man, that he should fill the space. 

Even poisons praise thee. Should a thing be lost ? 
Should creatures want, for want of heed, their due ? 
Since where are poisons, antidotes are most ; 
The help stands close, and keeps the fear in view. 88 



IX 



-%■■• 



THE sea, which seems to stop the traveller, 
Is by a ship the speedier passage made. 
The winds, who think they rule the mariner, 
Are ruled by him, and taught to serve his trade. 

And as thy house is full, so I adore 

Thy curious art in marshalling thy goods. 

The hills with health abound, the vales with store ; 

The South with marble ; North with furs and woods. 

Hard things are glorious ; easy things good cheap ; 
The common all men have ; that which is rare, 
Men therefore seek to have, and care to keep. 
The healthy frosts with summer-fruits compare. 

Light without wind is glass : warm without weight 
Is wool and furs : cool without closeness, shade : 
Speed without pains, a horse : tall without height, 
A servile hawk : low without loss, a spade. 104 

All countries have enough to serve their need : 
If they seek fine things, thou dost make them run 
For their offence ; and then dost turn their speed 
To be commerce and trade from sun to sun. 



124 



The Temple. 




K 



Nothing wears clothes, but Man ; nothing doth need 
But he to wear them. Nothing useth fire, 
But Man alone, to shew his heavenly breed : 
And only he hath fuel in desire. 



112 




jTfHEN th' earth was dry, thou mad'st a sea of wet : 
When that lay gathered, thou didst broach the 

mountains : 
When yet some places could no moisture get, 
The winds grew gard'ners, and the clouds good 

fountains. 

Rain, do not hurt my flowers ; but gently spend 
Your honey drops : press not to smell them here : 
When they are ripe, their odour will ascend, 
And at your lodging with their thanks appear. 120 

How harsh are thorns to pears ! and yet they make 
A better hedge, and need less reparation. 
How smooth are silks, compared with a stake, 
Or with a stone ! yet make no good foundation. 

Sometimes thou dost divide thy gifts to man, 
Sometimes unite. The Indian nut alone 
Is clothing, meat and trencher, drink and can, 
Boat, cable, sail and needle, all in one. 128 

Most herbs that grow in brooks, are hot and dry. 
Cold fruit's warm kernels help against the wind. 
The lemon's juice and rind cure mutually. 
The whey of milk doth loose, the milk doth bind. 

Thy creatures leap not, but express a feast, 

Where all the guests sit close, and nothing wants. 

k Frogs marry fish and flesh ; bats, bird and beast ; 

Sponges, nonsense and sense ; mines, th' earth 

and plants. 136 



The Church. 



125 



T 



O show thou art not bound, as if thy lot 
Were worse than ours, sometimes thou shiftest hands. 
Most things move th' under-jaw ; the Crocodile not. 
Most things sleep lying, th' Elephant leans or stands. 

But who hath praise enough ? nay, who hath any ? 
None can express thy works, but he that knows them ; 
And none can know thy works, which are so many, 
And so complete, but only he that owes them. Ui 

All things that are, though they have several ways, 
Yet in their being join with one advice 
To honour thee : and so I give thee praise 
In all my other hymns, but in this twice. 

Each thing that is, although in use and name 

It go for one, hath many ways in store 

To honour thee ; and so each hymn thy fame 

Extolleth many ways, yet this one more. 152 




HOPE. 

GAVE to Hope a Watch of mine : but he 
An Anchor gave to me. 
Then an old Prayer-book I did present : 
And he an Optic sent. 

With that I gave a Phial full of tears : 

But he a few green ears. 
Ah, loiterer ! I '11 no more, no more I '11 bring ; 

I did expect a Ring. 




SIN'S ROUND. 

ORRY I am, my God, sorry I am, 
That my offences course it in a ring. 
My thoughts are working like a busy flame, 
Until their Cockatrice they hatch and bring : 
And when they once have perfected their draughts, 
My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts. 6 

My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts, 

Which spit it forth like the Sicilian hill. 

They vent the wares, and pass them with their faults, 

And by their breathing ventilate the ill. 

But words suffice not, where are lewdnntentions : 

My hands do join to finish the inventions : 12 

My hands do join to finish the inventions : 

And so my sins ascend three storeys high, 

As Babel grew, before there were dissensions. 

Yet ill deeds loiter not : for they supply 

New thoughts of sinning ; wherefore, to my shame, 

Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am. !8 




The Church. 



127 



Hi 



w 

w| EETING with Time, Slack thing, said I, 
f/M. Thy scythe is dull ; whet it for shame. 
_^ No marvel, Sir, he did reply, 

'^i&§t'r^ If it at lensrth deserve some blame : 
^^g^v^V'^U^. But where one man would have me grind it, 
Twenty for one too sharp do find it. 6 

Perhaps some such of old did pass, 

Who above all things loved this life ; 

To whom thy scythe a hatchet was, 

Which now is but a pruning-knife. 

Christ's coming hath made Man thy debtor, 
Since by thy cutting he grows better. 12 

And in his blessing thou art blest : 
For where thou only wert before 
An executioner at best, 
Thou art a gard'ner now, and more. 

An usher to convey our souls 

Beyond the utmost stars and poles. 18 

And this is that makes life so long, 

While it detains us from our God. 

Even pleasures here increase the wrong : 

And length of days. lengthen the rod. 

Who wants the place, where God doth dwell, 
Partakes already half of hell. 24 

Of what strange length must that needs be, 
Which even eternity excludes ! 
Thus far Time heard me patiently : 
Then chafing said, This man deludes : 

What do I here before his door ? 

He doth not crave less time, but more. 30 



*s 



GRATEFULNESS. 

JHOU that hast given so much to me, 

Give one thing more, a grateful heart. 
See how thy beggar works on thee 
By art. 

He makes thy gifts occasion more, 
And says, If he in this be crost, 
All thou hast given him heretofore 
Is lost. 

But thou didst reckon, when at first 
Thy word our hearts and hands did crave, 
What it would come to at the worst 
To save. 



Perpetual knockings at thy door, 
Tears sullying thy transparent rooms, 
Gift upon gift ; much would have more, 
And comes. 



16 



This notwithstanding, thou went'st on, 
And didst allow us all our noise : 
Nay, thou hast made a sigh and groan 
Thy joys. 



Not that thou hast not still above 
Much better tunes, than groans can make ; 
But that these country-airs thy love 
Did take. 



The Church. 

I THEREFORE I cry, and cry again ; 
fll And in no quiet canst thou be, 
Till I a thankful heart obtain 
Of thee : 

Not thankful, when it pleaseth me : 
As if thy blessings had spare days : 
But such a heart, whose pulse may be 
Thy praise. 



129 




32 



PEACE. 

' WEET Peace, where dost thou dwell ? I humbly crave, 
Let me once know. 
I sought thee in a secret cave, 

And ask'd, if Peace were there. 
A hollow wind did seem to answer, No : 

Go seek elsewhere. 6 

I did ; and going did a rainbow note : 
Surely, thought I, 
This is the lace of Peace's coat : 

I will search out the matter. 
But while I look'd, the clouds immediately 
Did break and scatter. 



12 



Then went I to a garden, and did spy 
A gallant flower, 
The Crown Imperial : Sure, said I, 

Peace at the root must dwell. 
But when I digg'd, I saw a worm devour 
What show'd so well. 
I 



18 



130 



The Temple. 



T length I met a reverend good old man : 

Whom when for Peace 
I did demand, he thus began : 

There was a Prince of old 
At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase 
Of flock and fold. 



He sweetly lived ; yet sweetness did not save 
His life from foes. 
But after death out of his grave 

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat : 
^ Which many wondering at, got some of those 

To plant and set. 30 

It prosper' d strangely, and did soon disperse 
Through all the earth : 
For they that taste it do rehearse, 
That virtue lies therein ; 
A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth 

By flight of sin. ^ 

Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, 
And grows for you ; 
Make bread of it : and that repose 

And peace, which every where 
With so much earnestness you do pursue, 

Is only there. 4 - 




CONFESSION. 

iH, what a cunning guest 
I Is this same grief! within my heart I made 
Closets ; and in them many a chest ; 
And like a master in my trade, 
In those chests, boxes ; in each box, a till : 
Yet grief knows all, and enters when he will. 



No screw, no piercer can 

Into a piece of timber work and wind, 
As God's afflictions into man, 
When he a torture hath design'd. 

They are too subtle for the subtlest hearts ; 

And fall, like rheums, upon the tenderest parts. 12 

We are the earth ; and they, 
Like moles within us, heave, and cast about : 
And till they foot and clutch their prey, 
They never cool, much less give out. 
No smith can make such locks, but they have keys ; 
Closets are halls to them ; and hearts, highways. 18 

Only an open breast 
Doth shut them out, so that they cannot enter ; 
Or, if they enter, cannot rest, 
But quickly seek some new adventure. 
Smooth open hearts no fastening have ; but fiction 
Doth give a hold and handle to affliction. 2i 



132 The Temple. 

Wherefore my "faults and sins, 
Lord, I acknowledge ; take thy plagues away : 
For since confession pardon wins, 
I challenge here the brightest day, 
The clearest diamond : let them do their best, 
They shall be thick and cloudy to my breast. 



-»>^^^<<«s» 



GIDDINESS. 

/T$kH, what a thing is Man ! how far from power, 
\k From settled peace and rest ! 
XJ|] He is some twenty several men at least 
Each several hour. 

One while he counts of heaven, as of his treasure : 

But then a thought creeps in, 

And calls him coward, who for fear of sin 

Will lose a pleasure. 

Now he will fight it out, and to the wars ; 

Now eat his bread in peace, 
And snudge in quiet : now he scorns increase ; 
Now all day spares. 

He builds a house, which quickly down must go, 

As if a whirlwind blew 
And crush'd the building : and 'tis partly true, 
His mind is so. 

Oh, what a sight were Man, if his attires 

Did alter with his mind ; 
And, like a Dolphin's skin, his clothes combined 
With his desires ! 



The Church. 133 

Surely if each one saw another's heart, 

There would be no commerce, 
No Sale or Bargain pass : all would disperse, 

And live apart. 2i 

Lord, mend or rather make us : one creation 

Will not suffice our turn : 
Except thou make us daily, we shall spurn 

Our own salvation. 28 



THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 

OY, I did lock thee up : but some bad man 
Hath let thee out again : 
And now, methinks, I am where I began 

Seven years ago : one vogue and vein, 
One air of thoughts usurps my brain. 
I did toward Canaan draw : but now I am 
Brought back to the Red Sea, the sea of shame. 7 

For as the Jews of old by God's command 

Travell'd, and saw no town ; 
So now each Christian hath his journeys spann'd : 

Their story pens and sets us down. 

A single deed is small renown. 
God's works are wide, and let in future times ; 
His ancient justice overflows our crimes. u 

Then have we too our guardian fires and clouds ; 

Our Scripture-dew drops fast : 
We have our sands and serpents, tents and shrouds ; — 

Alas ! our murmurings come not last. 

But where's the cluster? where 's the taste 



134 



The Temple. 



F mine inheritance ? Lord, if I must borrow, 
Let me as well take up their joy, as sorrow. 



But can he want the grape, who hath the wine ? 

I have their fruit, and more. 
Blessed be God, who prosper' d Noah's vine, 

And made it bring forth grapes good store. 

But much more Him I must adore, 
Who of the law's sour juice sweet wine did make, 
Even God himself, being pressed for my sake. 



[§dr§£3%2§> 



21 



LOVE UNKNOWN. 

> EAR friend, sit down, the tale is long and sad: 
And in my faintings I presume your love 
Will more comply, than help. A Lord I had, 
And have, of whom some grounds, which 

may improve, 
I hold for two lives, and both lives in me. 
To him I brought a dish of fruit one day, 
And in the middle placed my heart. But he 
(I sigh to say) 8 
Look'd on a servant, who did know his eye 
Better than you know me, or (which is one) 
Than I myself. The servant instantly 
Quitting the fruit, seized on my heart alone 

And threw it in a font, wherein did fall 

A stream of blood, which issued from the side 

Of a great rock : I well remember all, 

And have good cause : there it was dipt and dyed, 16 




The Church. 



135 



MND wash'd, and wrung : the very wringing yet 
Enforceth tears. Your heart was foul \ I fear. 
Indeed 'tis true. I did and do commit 
Many a fault more than my lease will bear ; 
Yet still ask'd pardon, and was not denied. 
But you shall hear. After my heart was well, 
And clean and fair, as I one even-tide 
(I sigh to tell) 
Walk'd by myself abroad, I saw a large 
And spacious furnace flaming, and thereon 
A boiling caldron, round about whose verge 
Was in great letters set Affliction. 
The greatness show'd the owner. So I went 
To fetch a sacrifice out of my fold, 
Thinking with that, which I did thus present, 
To warm his love, which I did fear grew cold. 
But as my heart did tender it, the man 
Who was to take it from me, slipt his hand, 
And threw my heart into the scalding pan ; 
My heart, that brought it (do you understand ?), 
The offerer's heart. Your heart was hard, I fear. 
Indeed 'tis true. I found a callous matter 
Began to spread and to expatiate there : 
But with a richer drug, than scalding water, 
I bathed it often, even with holy blood, 
Which at a board, while many drank bare wine, 
A friend did steal into my cup for good, 
Even taken inwardly, and most divine 
To supple hardnesses. But at the length 
Out of the caldron getting, soon I fled 
Unto my house, where to repair the strength 
Which I had lost, I hasted to my bed : 
But when I thought to sleep out all these faults, 
(I sigh to speak) 



24 



136 The Temple. 

X FOUND that some had stuff'd the bed with thoughts, 
I would say thorns. Dear, could my heart not break. 
When with my pleasures even my rest was gone ? 
m^ Full well I understood, who had been there : 
* I For I had given the key to none, but one : 
It must be he. Your heart was dull, I fear. 
Indeed a slack and sleepy state of mind 
Did oft possess me, so that when I pray'd, 
Though my lips went, my heart did stay behind. 
But all my scores were by another paid, 
Who took the debt upon him. Truly, Friend, 
For aught I hear, your Master shows to you 
More favour than you wot of Mark the end. 
The Font did only, what was old, renew : 
The Caldron suppled, what was grown too hard: 
The Thorns did quicken, what was grown too dull: 
All did but strive to mend, what you had matr'd. 
Wherefore be cheer" d, and praise him to the full 
Each day, each hour, each moment of the week, 
Who fain would have you be, new, tender, quick. 70 



64 



MAN'S MEDLEY, 



JARK, how the birds do sing, 

And woods do ring. 
All creatures have their joy, and man hath his. 
Yet if we rightly measure, 

Man's joy and pleasure 
Rather hereafter, than in present, is. 



w 






The Church. 137 

O this life things of sense 

Make their pretence : 
In th' other Angels have a right by birth : 
Man ties them both alone, 
And makes them one, 
With th' one hand touching heaven, with the other 
earth. 12 

In soul he mounts and flies, 
In flesh he dies. 
He wears a stuff whose thread is coarse and round, 
But trimm'd with curious lace, 
And should take place 
After the trimming, not the stuff and ground. 18 

Not, that he may not here 
Taste of the cheer : 
But as birds drink, and straight lift up their head ; 
So must he sip, and think. 
Of better drink 
He may attain to, after he is dead. 24 

But as his joys are double, 
So is his trouble. 
He hath two winters, other things but one : 
Both frosts and thoughts do nip, 
And bite his lip ; 
And he of all things fears two deaths alone. 30 

Yet even the greatest griefs 
May be reliefs, 
Could he but take them right, and in their ways. 
Happy is he, whose heart 
Hath found the art 
To turn his double pains to double praise. 33 





THE STORM. 

^F as the winds and waters here below 
Do fly and flow, 
My sighs and tears as busy were above ; 

Sure they would move 
And much affect thee, as tempestuous times 
Amaze poor mortals, and object their crimes. 

Stars have their storms, even in a high degree, 

As well as we. 
A throbbing conscience spurred by remorse 
f Hath a strange force : 

It quits the earth, and mounting more and more, 
Dares to assault thee, and besiege thy door. 12 



There it stands knocking, to thy music's wrong. 

And drowns the song. 
Glory and honour are set by till it 

An answer get. 
Poets have wrong'd poor storms : such days are best ; 
They purge the air without, within the breast. 1S 



The Church. 



139 



PARADISE. 

BLESS thee, Lord, because I GROW 
Among thy trees, which in a row 
To thee both fruit and order ow. 

IS^C^jN^v, ^ nat °P en force, or hidden charm, 

^? Can blast my fruit, or bring me harm, 

While the enclosure is thine ARM ? 




Enclose me still, for fear I start. 
Be to me rather sharp and tart, 
Than let me want thy hand and ART. 

When thou dost greater judgments SPARE, 
And with thy knife but prune and pare, 
Even fruitful trees more fruitful ARE. 

Such sharpness shows the sweetest friend : 
Such cuttings rather heal than rend : 
And such beginnings touch their end. 



o^ 



THE METHOD. 

jjOOR heart, lament, 

For since thy God refuseth still, 
There is some rub, some discontent, 
Which cools his will. 

Thy Father could 
Quickly effect, what thou dost move ; 
For he is Power: and sure he would; 

For he is Love. 

Go search this thing, 
Tumble thy breast, and turn thy book : 
If thou hadst lost a glove or ring, 

Wouldst thou not look ? 

What do I see 
Written above there ? Yesterday 
I did behave Die carelessly ', 

Whe7i I did pray. 

And should God's ear 
To such indifferents chained be, 
Who do not their own motions hear ? 

Is God less free ? 

But stay ! what's there ? 
r S\ v ^ Late when I would have something done, 
^jvT ^ ^d & motion to forbear ; 

$ v ' Yet I went on. 



2i 






The Church. 

And should God's ear, 
Which needs not man, be tied to those 
Who hear not him, but quickly hear 

His utter foes ? 



141 



Then once more pray : 
Down with thy knees, up with thy voice : 
Seek pardon first, and God will say, 

Glad hearty rejoice. 



32 



DIVINITY. 

' S men, for fear the stars should sleep and nod, 
And trip at night, have spheres supplied ; 
As if a star were duller than a clod, 

Which knows his way without a guide : 

Just so the other heaven they also serve, 

Divinity's transcendent sky : 
Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve. 

Reason triumphs, and Faith lies by. 8 

Could not that wisdom, which first broach'd the wine, 
Have thicken'd it with definitions ? 

And jagg'd his seamless coat, had that been fine, 
With curious questions and divisions ? 

But all the doctrine, which he taught and gave, 
Was clear as heaven, from whence it came. 
I j£ At least those beams of truth, which only savg, 
\ j> Surpass in brightness any flame. 16 



142 The Temple. 

Love God, and love your neighbour. Watch and pray. 

Do as you would be done unto. 
O dark instructions, even as dark as day ! 

Who can these Gordian knots undo ? 

§UT he doth bid us take his blood for wine. 
Bid what he please ; yet I am sure, 
To take and taste what he doth there design, 

Is all that saves, and not obscure. 24 

Then burn thy Epicycles, foolish man ; 

Break all thy spheres, and save thy head ; 
Faith needs no staff of flesh, but stoutly can 

To Heaven alone both go, and lead 2S 

^^^^ 
EPHESIANS IV. 30. 

" GRIEVE NOT THE HOLY SPIRIT," ETC. 

tflcJND art thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove, 
«**» When I am sour, 

pijSbk And cross thy love ? 

* Grieved for me ? the God of strength and power 
Grieved for a worm, which when I tread, 
I pass away and leave it dead ? 6 

Then weep, mine eyes, the God of love doth grieve : 
Weep, foolish heart, 
And weeping live ; 
For death is dry as dust. Yet if we part, 
End as the night, whose sable hue 
Your sins express ; melt into dew. 



The Church, 143 

J HEN saucy Mirth shall knock or call at door, 
Cry out, Get hence, 
Or cry no more. 
Almighty God doth grieve, he puts on sense : 
I sin not to my grief alone, 
But to my God's too ; he doth groan, 18 

O take thy lute, and tune it to a strain, 
Which may with thee 
All day complain. 
There can no discord but in ceasing be. 

Marbles can weep ; and surely strings 
More bowels have, than such hard things,. u 

Lord, I adjudge myself to tears and grief, 
Even endless tears 
Without relief. 
If a clear spring for me no time forbears, 
But runs, although I be not dry ; 
I am no Crystal, what shall I ? 30 

<® Yet if I wail not still, since still to wail 
Nature denies ; 
And flesh would fail* 
If my deserts were masters of mine eyes : 

Lord, pardon, for thy Son makes good 

My want of tears with store of blood. S6 




THE FAMILY. 

^H AT doth this noise of thoughts within my heart, 
As if they had a part ? 
What do these loud complaints and pulling fears. 
As if there were no rule or ears ? 






But, Lord, the house and family are thine, 
Though some of them repine, 
j Turn out these wranglers, which defile thy seat : 
fa For where thou dwellest all is neat. 

First Peace and Silence all disputes control, 

Then Order plays the soul ; 
And giving all things their set forms and hours, 

Makes of wild woods sweet walks and bowers. 

Humble Obedience near the door doth stand, 

Expecting a command : 
Than whom in waiting nothing seems more slow, 

Nothing more quick when she doth go. 16 



4> Joys oft are there, and griefs as oft as joys ; 
But griefs without a noise : 
^T Yet speak they louder, than distemper'd fears i 
What is so shrill as silent tears ? 



tf 



3 This is thy house, with these it doth abound: 
And where these are not found, 
Perhaps thou com'st sometimes, and for a day ; 

But not to make a constant stay. 24 





THE SIZE. 

ONTENT thee, greedy heart. 
Modest and moderate joys to those, that have 
Title to more hereafter when they part, 
Are passing brave. 
Let th' upper springs into the low- 
Descend and fall, and thou dost flow. 6 

What though some have a fraught 
Of cloves and nutmegs, and in cinnamon sail ? 
If thou hast wherewithal to spice a draught, 
When griefs prevail, 
And for the future time art heir 
To th' Isle of Spices, is 't not fair ? * 2 

To be in both worlds full 
Is more than God was, who was hungry here. 
Wouldst thou his laws of fasting disannul ? 
Enact good cheer ? 
Lay out thy joy, yet hope to save it ? 
Wouldst thou both eat thy cake, and have it ? 18 

Great joys are all at once ; 
But little do reserve themselves for more : 
Those have their hopes ; these what they have renounce, 
And live on score : 
Those are at home ; these journey still, 
And meet the rest on SiotHs hill. 24 

K 



146 



The Temple. 



ffiHY Saviour sentenced joy, 

Jlj And in the flesh condemn'd it as unfit, 

At least in lump : for such doth oft destroy ; 
Whereas a bit 
Doth 'tice us on to hopes of more, 
rji And for the present health restore. 

A Christian's state and case 
Is not a corpulent, but a thin and spare, 
Yet active strength : whose long and bony face 
Content and care 
Do seem to equally divide, 
Like a pretender, not a bride. 



30 



Wherefore sit down, good heart ; 

Grasp not at much, for fear thou losest all. 

If comforts fell according to desert, 

They would great frosts and snows destroy : 
For we should count, Since the last joy. 41 



Then close again the seam, 
Which thou hast open'd ; do not spread thy robe 
In hope of great things. Call to mind thy dream, 
An earthly globe, 
On whose meridian was engraven, 
These Seas are tears, and Heaven the haven. i7 






ARTILLERY. 

S I one evening sat before my cell, 

Methought a star did shoot into my lap. 

I rose, and shook my clothes, as knowing 

well, 
That from small fires comes oft no small 
mishap : 
When suddenly I heard one say, 
Do as thou us est, disobey, 
Expel good motions from thy breast, 
Which have the face of fire, but end in rest. 8 

I, who had heard of music in the spheres, 
But not of speech in stars, began to muse : 
But turning to my God, whose ministers 
The stars and all things ai;e ; If I refuse, 

Dread Lord, said I, so oft my good ; 
Then I refuse not even with blood 
To wash away my stubborn thought : 
For I will do, or suffer what I ought. *6 



But I have also stars and shooters too, 
Born where thy servants both artilleries use. 
My tears and prayers night and day do woo, 
And work up to thee ; yet thou dost refuse. 
Not but I am (I must say still) 
Much more obliged to do thy will, 
Than thou to grant mine : but because 
Thy promise now hath even set thee thy laws. 



24 



148 The Temple. 

Then we are shooters both, and thou dost deign 
To enter combat with us, and contest 
With thine own clay. But I would parley fain : 
Shun not my arrows, and behold my breast. 

Yet if thou shunnest, I am thine : 

I must be so, if I am mine. 

There is no articling with thee : 
I am but finite, yet thine infinitely. 32 



CHURCH RENTS AND SCHISMS. 

PRAVE rose, (alas !) where art thou ? in the chair, 
Where thou didst lately so triumph and shine, 
A worm doth sit, whose many feet and hair 
Are the more foul, the more thou wert divine. 
This, this hath done it, this did bite the root 
And bottom of the leaves : which when the wind 
Did once perceive, it blew them under foot, 
Where rude unhallow'd steps do crush and grind 
Their beauteous glories. Only shreds of thee, 
And those all bitten, in thy chair I see. 10 

Why doth my Mother blush ? is she the rose, 
And shows it so ? Indeed Christ's precious blood 
Gave you a colour once ; which when your foes 
Thought to let out, the bleeding did you good, 
And made you look much fresher than before. 
But when debates and fretting jealousies 
Did worm and work within you more and more, 
Your colour faded, and calamities 

Turned your ruddy into pale and bleak : 

Your health and beauty both began to break. 20 



The Church. 



149 



THEN did your several parts unloose and start : 
Which when your neighbours saw, like a north wind 
They rushed in, and cast them in the dirt 
Where Pagans tread. O Mother dear and kind, 
Where shall I get me eyes enough to weep, 
As many eyes as stars ? since it is night, 
And much of Asia and Eitrope fast asleep, 
And even all Africk ; would at least I might 
With these two poor ones lick up all the dew, 
Which falls by night, and pour it out for you ! 30 




JUSTICE. 

DREADFUL Justice, what a fright and 
terror 

Wast thou of old, 
When Sin and Error 
Did show and shape thy looks to me, 
And through their looks discolour thee ! 
He that did but look up, was proud and bold. 6 

The dishes of thy balance seem'd to gape, 
Like two great pits ; 
The beam and scape 
Did like some tottering engine show : 
Thy hand above did burn and glow, 
Daunting the stoutest hearts, the proudest wits. 12 

But now that Christ's pure veil presents the sight, 
I see no fears : 
Thy hand is white, 



150 The Temple. 

Thy scales like buckets, which attend 
And interchangeably descend, 
Lifting to heaven from this well of tears. 18 

a OR where before thou still didst call on me, 
Now I still touch 
And harp on thee. 
God's promises have made thee mine : 
Why should I justice now decline ? 
Against me there is none, but for me much. 24 

THE PILGRIMAGE. 

TRAVELL'D on, seeing the hill, where lay 
My expectation. 
A long it was and weary way. 
The gloomy cave of Desperation 
I left on the one, and on the other side 
The rock of Pride. 

And so I came to Fancy's meadow strew'd 
With many a flower : 
Fain would I here have made abode, 
But I was quicken'd by the hour. 
So to Care's copse I came, and there got through 

With much ado. 12 

That led me to the wild of Passion ; which 
Some call the wold ; 
A wasted place, but sometimes rich. 
Here I was robb'd of all my gold, 
Save one good Angel, which a friend had tied 

Close to my side. 18 



The Church. 



I5i 



1 T length I got unto the gladsome hill, 
Where lay my hope, 
Where lay my heart ; and climbing still, 
When I had gain'd the brow and top, 
A lake of brackish waters on the ground 
Was all I found. 



24 



With that abash'd and struck with many a sting 
Of swarming fears, 
I fell, and cried, Alas ! my King ; 
Can both the way and end be tears ? 
Yet taking heart I rose, and then perceived 

I was deceived : 30 

My hill was farther : so I flung away, 
Yet heard a cry 
Just as I went, None goes that way 
And lives: If that be all, said I, 
After so foul a journey death is fair, 

And but a chair. 36 



THE HOLD-FAST. 

THREATEN'D to observe the strict decree 
Of my dear God with all my power and 

might : 
But I was told by one, it could not be ; 

Yet I might trust in God to be my light. 

Then will I trust, said I, in him alone. 
Nay, even to trust in him, was also his : 
We must confess, that nothing is our own. 

Then I confess that he my succour is : 




152 



The Temple. 



But to have naught is ours, not to confess 
That we have naught. I stood amazed at this, 
Much troubled, till I heard a friend express, 

That all things were more ours by being his. 

What Adam had, and forfeited for all, 
Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall. 



14 







COMPLAINING. 

not beguile my heart, 

Because thou art 
My power and wisdom. Put me not to shame, 
Because I am 
Thy clay that weeps, thy dust that calls. 

Thou art the Lord of glory ; 
The deed and story 
Are both thy due : but I a silly fly, 
That live or die, 
According as the weather falls. 

Art thou all justice, Lord ? 

Shows not thy word 
More attributes ? Am I all throat or eye, 
To weep or cry ? 
Have I no parts but those of grief ? 

Let not thy wrathful power 

Afflict my hour, 
My inch of life : or let thy gracious power 

Contract my hour, 
That I may climb and find relief. 






THE DISCHARGE. 

*USY inquiring heart, what wouldst thou know ? 
Why dost thou pry, 
JjKj M And turn, and leer, and with a licorous eye 
Look high and low ; 
And in thy lookings stretch and grow ? 5 

Hast thou not made thy counts, and summ'd up all ? 

Did not thy heart 
Give up the whole, and with the whole depart ? 

Let what will fall : 
That which is past who can recall ? 10 

j^ Thy life is God's, thy time to come is gone, 
And is his right. 
. He is thy night at noon : he is at night 
Thy noon alone. 
The crop is his, for he hath sown. 15 

And well it was for thee, when this befell, 
That God did make 

Thy business his, and in thy life partake : 
For thou canst tell, 
If it be his once, all is well. 20 

Only the present is thy part and fee. 
And happy thou, 
If, though thou didst not beat thy future brow, 
Thou couldst well see 
What present things required of thee. 25 



154 The Temple. 

They ask enough ; why shouldst thou farther go ? 

Raise not the mud 
Of future depths, but drink the clear and good. 

Dig not for woe 
In times to come ; for it will grow. 

Man and the present fit : if he provide, 
He breaks the square. 

This hour is mine : if for the next I care, 
I grow too wide, 
And do encroach upon death's side : 85 

For death each hour environs and surrounds. 

He that would know 
And care for future chances, cannot go, 

Unto those grounds, 
But through a Churchyard which them bounds. 

Things present shrink and die : but they that spend 
Their thoughts and sense 

On future grief, do not remove it thence, 
But it extend, 
And draw the bottom out an end. u 

God chains the dog till night : wilt loose the chain, 

And wake thy sorrow ? 
Wilt thou forestall it, and now grieve to-morrow, 
And then again 
Grieve over freshly all thy pain ? ' 50 

Either grief will not come : or if it must, 

Do not forecast : 
And while it cometh, it is almost past. 

Away distrust : 
My God hath promised ; he is just. 55 




PRAISE. 

"J^ING of glory, King of peace, 
t||| $$o I will love thee : 

And that love may never cease, 
S^^^^^^^us^ I will move thee. 



Thou hast granted my request, 
Thou hast heard me : 
Thou didst note my working breast, 
Thou hast spared me. 

Wherefore with my utmost art 
I will sing thee, 

And the cream of all my heart 
I will bring thee. 

Though my sins against me cried, 
Thou didst clear me ; 

And alone, when they replied, 

Thou didst hear me. 



Seven whole days, not one in seven, 
I will praise thee. 

In my heart, though not in heaven, 
I can raise thee. 

Thou grew'st soft and moist with tears, 
Thou relentedst. 

And when Justice call'd for fears, 
Thou dissentedst. 



24 



156 The Temple. 

Small it is, in this poor sort 
To enrol thee : 

Even eternity's too short 

To extol thee. 



28 



AN OFFERING. 

jOME, bring thy gift. If blessings were as slow 
As men's returns, what would become of fools ? 
What hast thou there ? a heart ? but is it pure ? 
Search well and see ; for hearts have many holes. 
Yet one pure heart is nothing to bestow : 
In Christ two natures met to be thy cure. 



O that within us hearts had propagation, 

Since many gifts do challenge many hearts ! 

Yet one, if good, may title to a number ; 

And single things grow fruitful by deserts. 

In public judgments one may be a nation, 

And fence a plague, while others sleep and slumber. 12 

But all I fear is, lest thy heart displease, 

As neither good, nor one : so oft divisions 

Thy lusts have made, and not thy lusts alone ; 

Thy passions also have their set partitions. 

These parcel out thy heart : recover these, 

And thou may'st offer many gifts in one. 18 

There is a balsam, or indeed a blood, 

Dropping from heaven, which doth both cleanse and 

close 
All sorts of wounds ; of such strange force it is. 



The Church. 

Seek out this All-heal, and seek no repose, 
Until thou find, and use it to thy good : 
S\ I Then bring thy gift ; and let thy hymn be this : 



iS7 



24 



$ 



[INCE my sadness 
Into gladness, 
Lord, thou dost convert, 
O accept 

What thou hast kept, 
As thy due desert. 



Had I many, 

Had I any 
(For this heart is none), 

All were thine 

And none of mine, 
Surely thine alone. 



Yet thy favour 
May give savour 

To this poor oblation ; 
And it raise 
To be thy praise, 

And be my salvation. 



42 




LONGING. 

'ITH sick and famish'd eyes, 

With doubling knees and weary bones, 
To thee my cries, 
To thee my groans, 
To thee my sighs, my tears ascend : 
No end ? 

My throat, my soul is hoarse ; 

My heart is wither' d like a ground 

Which thou dost curse. 

My thoughts turn round, 

And make me giddy : Lord, I fall, 

Yet call. 

From thee all pity flows. 
Mothers are kind, because thou art, 
And dost dispose 
To them a part : 
Their infants, them ; and they suck thee 
More free. 



Bowels of pity, hear ! 
Lord of my soul, love of my mind, 
Bow down thine ear ! 
Let not the wind 
Scatter my words, and in the same 
Thy name ! 



The Church. 159 

Look on my sorrows round ! 
_J Mark well my furnace ! O what flames, 

// \ What heats abound ! 

** J What griefs, what shames ! 

\*o> Consider, Lord ; Lord, bow thine ear, 

And hear ! so 

Lord JESU, thou didst bow 
Thy dying head upon the tree : 
O be not now 
More dead to me ! 
Lord, hear ! Shall he that 7nade the ear 

Not hear f ^ 

Behold, thy dust doth stir ; 
It moves, it creeps, it aims at thee : 
Wilt thou defer 
To succour me, 
Thy pile of dust, wherein each crumb 

Says, Come ? 42 

To thee help appertains. 
Hast thou left all things to their course, 
And laid the reins 
Upon the horse ? 
Is all lock'd ? hath a sinner's plea 

No key ? 48 

Indeed the world 's thy book, 
Where all things have their leaf assign'd : 
Yet a meek look 
Hath interlined. 
Thy board is full, yet humble guests 

Find nests. 5i 



160 The Temple. 

fHOU tamest, while I die, 
And fall to nothing : thou dost reign, 
And rule on high, 
While I remain 
In bitter grief: yet am I styled 

Thy child. 60 

Lord, didst thou leave thy throne, 
Not to relieve ? how can it be, 
That thou art grown 
Thus hard to me ? 
Were sin alive, good cause there were 

To bear. 66 

But now both Sin is dead, 
And all thy promises live and bide. 
That wants his head ; 
These speak and chide, 
And in thy bosom pour my tears, 
As theirs. 

Lord Jesu, hear my heart, 
Which hath been broken now so long, 
That every part 
Hath got a tongue ! 
Thy beggars grow ; rid them away 
To-day. 



My love, my sweetness, hear ! 
By these thy feet, at which my heart 
Lies all the year, 
Pluck out thy dart, 
And heal my troubled breast which cries, 
Which dies. 




THE BAG. 

WAY, despair ; my gracious Lord doth hear, 

Though winds and waves assault my keel, 
He doth preserve it : he doth steer, 
Even when the boat seems most to reel. 
Storms are the triumph of his art : 
Well may he close his eyes, but not his heart. 6 

Hast thou not heard, that my Lord Jesus died ? 

Then let me tell thee a strange story. 

The God of power, as he did ride 

In his majestic robes of glory, 

Resolved to light ; and so one day 
He did descend, undressing all the way. 12 

The stars his tire of light and rings obtain'd, 

The cloud his bow, the fire his spear, 

The sky his azure mantle gain'd. 

And when they ask'd, what he would wear ; 

He smiled, and said as he did go, 
He had new clothes a making here below. 18 



When he was come, as travellers are wont, 
He did repair unto an inn. 
Both then, and after, many a brunt 
He did endure to cancel sin : 
And having given the rest before, 

Here he gave up his life to pay our score. 

L 



24 



1 62 



The Temple. 




UT as he was returning, there came one 
That ran upon him with a spear. 
He, who came hither all alone, 
Bringing nor man, nor arms, nor fear, 
Received the blow upon his side, 
And straight he turn'd, and to his brethren cried, 80 

If ye have any thing to send or write 

(I have no bag, but here is room) 

Unto my Father's hands and sight, 

(Believe me) it shall safely come. 

That I shall mind, what you impart : 
Look, you may put it very near my heart. 

Or if hereafter any of my friends 

Will use me in this kind, the door 
Shall still be open ; what he sends 
I will present, and somewhat more. 
Not to his hurt. Sighs will convey 

Anything to me. Hark despair, away. 42 




THE JEWS. 



OOR nation, whose sweet sap and juice 
Our scions have purloin' d, and left you dry : 
Whose streams we got by the Apostles' sluice, 
And use in baptism, while ye pine and die : 
Who by not keeping once, became a debtor ; 
And now by keeping lose the letter : 



The Church. 



163 



O that my prayers ! mine, alas ! 
O that some Angel might a trumpet sound : 
At which the Church falling upon her face 
Should cry so loud, until the trump were drown' d, 
And by that cry of her dear Lord obtain, 

That your sweet sap might come again ! 



12 





THE COLLAR. 

STRUCK the board, and cried, No more ; 
I will abroad. 
What ? shall I ever sigh and pine ? 
My lines and life are free ; free as the road, 
Loose as the wind, as large as store. 
Shall I be still in suit ? 
Have I no harvest but a thorn 
To let me blood, and not restore 
What I have lost with cordial fruit ? 

Sure there was wine, 
Before my sighs did dry it : there was corn, 
Before my tears did drown it. 
Is the year only lost to me ? 

Have I no bays to crown it ? 
No flowers, no garlands gay ? all blasted ? 

All wasted ? 16 

Not so, my heart : but there is fruit, 
And thou hast hands. 



164 The Temple. 

Recover all thy sigh-blown age 
On double pleasures : leave thy cold dispute 
Of what is fit, and not : forsake thy cage, 

Thy rope of sands, 
Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee 
Good cable, to enforce and draw, u 

And be thy law, 
While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. 
Away ; take heed : 
I will abroad. 
Call in thy death's-head there : tie up thy fears. 
He that forbears 
To suit and serve his need, 
Deserves his load. 
But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild 
At every word, 
Methought I heard one calling, Child : 
And I replied, My Lord. 






V 



THE GLIMPSE. 

^THITHER away, delight ? 
* m, Thou cam'st but now ; wilt thou so soon depart, 

And give me up to-night ? 
For many weeks of lingering pain and smart 
But one half hour of comfort for my heart ? 

Methinks delight should have 
More skill in music, and keep better time. 

Wert thou a wind or wave, 
They quickly go and come with lesser crime : 
Flowers look about, and die not in their prime. 10 



m 



The Church. 165 

>HY short abode and stay 

Feeds not, but adds to the desire of meat. 

Lime begg'd of old (they say) 
A neighbour spring to cool his inward heat ; 
Which by the spring's access grew much more great. 

In hope of thee my heart 
Pick'd here and there a crumb, and would not die ; 

But constant to his part, 
When as my fears foretold this, did reply, 
A slender thread a gentle guest will tie. 20 

Yet if the heart that wept 
Must let thee go, return when it doth knock. 

Although thy heap be kept 
For future times, the droppings of the stock 
May oft break forth, and never break the lock. 25 

If I have more to spin, 
The wheel shall go, so that thy stay be short. 

Thou know' st how grief and sin 
Disturb the work. O make me not their sport, 
Who by thy coming may be made a Court ! 30 





ASSURANCE. 

SPITEFUL bitter thought ! 
Bitterly spiteful thought ! Couldst thou 

invent 
S6 high a torture ? Is such poison bought ? 
Doubtless, but in the way of punishment, 
When wit contrives to meet with thee, 
No such rank poison can there be. 6 






Thou saidst but even now, 
That all was not so fair, as I conceived, 
Betwixt my God and me ; that I allow 
And coin large hopes ; but, that I was deceived : 

Either the league was broke, or near it ; 

And, that I had great cause to fear it. 12 



And what to this ? what more 
Could poison, if it had a tongue, express ? 
What is thy aim ? wouldst thou unlock the door 
To cold despairs, and gnawing pensiveness ? 

Wouldst thou raise devils ? I see, I know, 

I writ thy purpose long ago. 



But I will to my Father, 
W T ho heard thee say it. O most gracious Lord, 
If all the hope and comfort that I gather, 
Were from myself, I had not half a word, 

Not half a letter to oppose 

What is objected by my foes. 



24 



The Church. 

)UT thou art my desert : 

) And in this League, which now my foes invade, 
Thou art not only to perform thy part, 
But also mine ; as when the league was made, 
Thou didst at once thyself indite, 
And hold my hand, while I did write. 



167 



80 



Wherefore if thou canst fail, 
Then can thy truth and I : but while rocks stand, 
And rivers stir, thou canst not shrink or quail : 
Yea, when both rocks and all things shall disband, 
Then shalt thou be my rock and tower, 
And make their ruin praise thy power. 



Now foolish thought go on, 
Spin out thy thread, and make thereof a coat 
To hide thy shame : for thou hast cast a bone, 
Which bounds on thee, and will not down thy throat. 

What for itself love once began, 

Now love and truth will end in man. 42 




- THE CALL. 

[OME, my Way, my Truth, my Life : 
1 Such a Way, as gives us breath : 

Such a Truth, as ends all strife : 

Such a Life, as killeth death. 

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength : 
Such a Light, as shows a feast : 
Such a Feast, as mends in length : 
Such a Strength, as makes his guest. 



1 68 The Temple. 

/f|OME, my Joy, my Love, my Heart : 
\^ Such a Joy, as none can move : 
Such a Love, as none can part : 
Such a Heart, as joys in love. 



CLASPING OF HANDS. 

^ ORD, thou art mine, and I am thine, 

If mine I am : and thine much more, 
Than I or aught, or can be mine. 
Yet to be thine, doth me restore ; 
So that again I now am mine, 
And with advantage mine the more. 
Since this being mine, brings with it thine, 
And thou with me dost thee restore. 
If I without thee would be mine, 
I neither should be mine nor thine. 



Lord, I am thine, and thou art mine : 
So mine thou art, that something more 
I may presume thee mine, than thine. 
For thou didst suffer to restore 
Not thee, but me, and to be mine : 
And with advantage mine the more, 
Since thou in death wast none of thine, 
Yet then as mine didst me restore. 

O be mine still ! still make me thine ; 

Or rather make no Thine and Mine ! 





PRAISE. 

Jr° ORD, I will mean and speak thy praise, 

•ciSj Thy praise alone. 

My busy heart shall spin it all my days : 

And when it stops for want of store, 
Then will I wring it with a sigh or groan, 

That thou may'st yet have more. 

When thou dost favour any action, 

It runs, it flies : 
All things concur to give it a perfection. 

That which had but two legs before, 
When thou dost bless, hath twelve : one wheel doth 
rise 
To twenty then, or more. 12 



But when thou dost on business blow, 
" It hangs, it clogs : 

f£) Not all the teams of Albion in a row 
Can* hale or draw it out of door. 
Legs are but stumps, and Pharaoh's wheels but clogs, 
And struggling hinders more. 18 

Thousands of things do thee employ 

In ruling all 
This spacious Globe : Angels must have their joy, 
Devils their rod, the sea his shore, 
Njk The winds their stint : and yet when I did call, 
- _$> Thou heardst my call, and more. u 



I/O 



The Temple. 



HAVE not lost one single tear : 

But when mine eyes 
Did weep to heaven, they found a bottle there 

(As we have boxes for the poor) 
Ready to take them in ; yet of a size 
That would contain much more. 



30 



But after thou hadst slipt a drop 

From thy right eye 
(Which there did hang like streamers near the top 

Of some fair Church, to show the sore 
And bloody battle which thou once didst try), 

The glass was full, and more. 

Wherefore I sing. Yet since my heart, 

Though press'd, runs thin ; 
O that I might some other hearts convert, 

And so take up at use good store : 
That to thy chests there might be coming in 

Both all my praise, and more ! 



42 




JOSEPH'S COAT. 

OUNDED I sing, tormented I indite, 
Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest : 
Sorrow hath changed its note : such is 

His will 
Who changeth all things, as him pleaseth 

best. 



The Church, 171 

\ OR well he knows, if but one grief and smart 
Among my many had his full career, 
Sure it would carry with it even my heart, 
And both would run until they found a bier, 8 

To fetch the body ; both being due to grief. 
But he hath spoil' d the race ; and given to anguish 
One of Joy's coats, 'ticing it with relief 
To linger in me, and together languish. 

I live to show his power, who once did bring 
My joys to weep, and now my griefs to sing. 14 

THE PULLEY. 

^HEN God at first made man, 
Having a glass of blessings standing by ; 
Let us (said he) pour on him all we can : 
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, 

Contract into a span. 5 

So strength first made a way ; 
Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure : 
When almost all was out, God made a stay, 
Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure, 

Rest in the bottom lay. 10 

For if I should (said he) 
Bestow this jewel also on my creature, 
He would adore my gifts instead of me, 
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature : 

So both should losers be. 15 



172 The Temple. 

Yet let him keep the rest, 
But keep them with repining restlessness : 
Let him be rich and weary, that at least, 
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 

May toss him to my breast. 



/^^ THE PRIESTHOOD. 

BLEST Order, which in power dost so excel, 
That with th' one hand thou liftest to the sky, 
And with the other throwest down to hell, 
1^3 In thy just censures ; fain would I draw nigh ; 
Fain put thee on, exchanging my lay-sword 
For that of the holy Word. 

But thou art fire, sacred and hallow'd fire ; 
And I but earth and clay : should I presume 
To wear thy habit, the severe attire 
My slender compositions might consume. 
I am both foul and brittle, much unfit 
To deal in holy Writ. 

Yet have I often seen, by cunning hand 

And force of fire, what curious things are made 

Of wretched earth. Where once I scorn' d to stand, 

That earth is fitted by the fire and trade 

Of skilful Artists, for the boards of those 

Who make the bravest shows. 18 

But since those great ones, be they ne'er so great, 
Come from the earth, from whence those vessels come; 




% 



The Church. 

\ O that at once both feeder, dish, and meat, 
Have one beginning and one final sum : 
I do not greatly wonder at the sight, 
If earth in earth delight. 



173 



But the holy men of God such vessels are, 
As serve him up, who all the world commands. 
When God vouchsafeth to become our fare, 
Their hands convey him, who conveys their hands : 
O what pure things, most pure must those things be 
Who bring my God to me ! 



30 



Wherefore I dare not, I, put forth my hand 
To hold the Ark, although it seem to shake 
Through th' old sins and new doctrines of our land. 
Only, since God doth often vessels make 
Of lowly matter for high uses meet, 

I throw me at his feet. 3 

There will I lie, until my Maker seek 
For some mean stuff whereon to show his skill : 
Then is my time. The. distance of the meek 
Doth flatter power. Lest good come short of ill 
In praising might, the poor do by submission 

What pride by opposition. 4 




#^ 



™ 



3 



THE SEARCH. 

3HITHER, O, whither art thou fled, 
My Lord, my love ? 
My searches are my daily bread ; 
Yet never prove. 

My knees pierce th' earth, mine eyes the sky : 

And yet the sphere 
And centre both to me deny 

That thou art there. 



Yet can I mark how herbs below 
Grow green and gay ; 

As if to meet thee they did know, 
While I decay. 

Yet can I mark how stars above 
Simper and shine, 

As having keys unto thy love, 

While poor I pine. 

I sent a sigh to seek thee out, 

Deep drawn in pain, 

Wing'd like an arrow : but my scout 
Returns in vain. 



I turn'd another (having store) 

Into a groan, 
Because the search was dumb before : 

But all was one. 



The Church. 

ORD, dost thou some new fabric mould 
Which favour wins, 
And keeps thee present, leaving th' old 
Unto their sins ? 



175 



Where is my God ? what hidden place 
Conceals thee still ? 

What covert dare eclipse thy face ? 
Is it thy will ? 

O let not that of any thing : 

Let rather brass, 

Or steel, or mountains be thy ring, 
And I will pass. 

Thy will such an intrenching is, 
As passeth thought : 

To it all strength, all subtilties 

Are things of naught. 

Thy will such a strange distance is, 

As that to it 
East and West touch, the poles do kiss, 

And parallels meet. 

Since then my grief must be as large 

As is thy space, 
Thy distance from me ; see my charge, 

Lord, see my case. 

O take these bars, these lengths, away ; 

Turn, and restore me : 
Be not, Almighty, let me say, 

Against, but for me. 



176 The Temple. 

)HEN thou dost turn, and wilt be near : 
What edge so keen, 
What point so piercing can appear 
To come between ? 

For as thy absence doth excel 

All distance known : 

So doth thy nearness bear the bell, 
Making two one. 



GRIEF. 

WHO will give me tears ? Come, all ye springs, 
Dwell in my head and eyes : come, clouds, and rain : 
My grief hath need of all the watery things, 
That Nature hath produced. Let every vein 
Suck up a river to supply mine eyes, 
My weary weeping eyes too dry for me, 
Unless they get new conduits, new supplies, 
To bear them out, and with my state agree. 
W T hat are two shallow fords, two little spouts 
Of a less world ? the greater is but small, 10 

A narrow cupboard for my griefs and doubts, 
Which want provision in the midst of all. 
Verses, ye are too fine a thing, too wise 
For my rough sorrows : cease, be dumb and mute, 
Give up your feet and running to mine eyes, 
And keep your measures for some lover's lute, 
Whose grief allows him music and a rhyme : 
For mine excludes both measure, tune, and time. 

Alas, my God ! 19 



THE CROSS. 



fp 



I 



5 HAT is this strange and uncouth thing 
To make me sigh, and seek, and faint, and die, 
Until I had some place, where I might sing, 

And serve thee ; and not only I, 
But all my wealth, and family might combine 
To set thy honour up, as our design ? 

And then when after much delay, 
Much wrestling, many a combat, this dear end, 
So much desired, is given, to take away 

My power to serve thee : to unbend 
All my abilities, my designs confound, 
And lay my threatenings bleeding on the ground. 



t 






One ague dwelleth in my bones, 
Another in my soul (the memory 
What I would do for thee, if once my groans 

Could be allow' d for harmony) ; 
I am in all a weak disabled thing, 
Save in the sight thereof, where strength doth sting. 18 

PRESIDES, things sort not to my will, 

<|3 Even when my will doth study thy renown : 

Thou turn' st the edge of all things on me still, 

Taking me up to throw me down : 
So that, even when my hopes seem to be sped, 
I am to grief alive, to them as dead. u 



To have my aim, and yet to be 
Farther from it than when I bent my bow : 
M 



178 The Temple. 

To make my hopes my torture, and the fee 

Of all my woes another woe, 
Is in the midst of delicates to need, 
And even in Paradise to be a weed. so 

H, my dear Father, ease my smart ! 
These contrarieties crush me : these cross actions 
Do wind a rope about, and cut my heart : 

And yet since these thy contradictions 
Are properly a Cross felt by thy Son, 
With but four words, my words, Thy will be done. 86 




THE FLOWER. 

OW fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean 
Are thy returns ! even as the flowers in spring ; 

To which, besides their own demean, 
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. 
Grief melts away 
Like snow in May, 
As if there were no such cold thing. 7 

Who would have thought my shrivell'd heart 
Could have recover' d greenness ? It was gone 

Quite under ground ; as flowers depart 
To see their Mother-root, when they have blown : 
Where they together 
All the hard weather, 
Dead to the world, keep house unknown. u 



The Church. 



179 



These are thy wonders, Lord of power, 
Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell 

And up to heaven in an hour ; 
Making a chiming of a passing bell. 
We say amiss, 
This or that is : 
Thy Word is all, if we could spell. 



21 



O that I once past changing were, 
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither ! 

Many a spring I shoot up fair, 
Offering at heaven, growing and groaning thither : 
Nor doth my flower 
Want a spring-shower, 
My sins and I joining together. 28 



But while I grow in a straight line, 
Still upwards bent, as if heaven were mine own, 

Thy anger comes, and I decline : 
What frost to that ? what pole is not the zone 
Where all things burn, 
When thou dost turn, 
And the least frown of thine is shown ? 



35 




v-i^" 



And now in age I bud again, 
After so many deaths I live and write ; 

I once more smell the dew and rain, 
And relish versing : O my only light, 
It cannot be 
That I am he, 
On whom thy tempests fell at night. 

These are thy wonders, Lord of love, 
To make us see we are but flowers that glide : 



42 



i8o 



The Temple. 



Which when we once can find and prove, 
Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide. 
Who would be more, 
Swelling through store, 
Forfeit their Paradise by their pride. 





*to 



DOTAGE. 



ALSE glozing pleasures, casks of happiness, 
Foolish night-fires, women's and children's wishes, 
Chases in arras, gilded emptiness, 
Shadows well mounted, dreams in a career, 
Embroider' d lies, nothing between two dishes ; 
These are the pleasures here. 

True earnest sorrows, rooted miseries, 
Anguish in grain, vexations ripe and blown, 
Sure-footed griefs, solid calamities, 
Plain demonstrations, evident and clear, 
Fetching their proofs even from the very bone ; 

These are the sorrows here. 12 



But oh the folly of distracted men, 
Who griefs in earnest, joys in jest pursue ; 
Preferring, like brute beasts, a loathsome den 
Before a court, even that above so clear, 
Where are no sorrows, but delights more true 

Than miseries are here ! 18 



THE SON. 

ET foreign nations of their language boast, 
What fine variety each tongue affords : 
I like our language, as our men and coast ; 
Who cannot dress it well, want wit, not words. 
How neatly do we give one only name 
To Parent's issue and the Sun's bright star ! 
^ A Son is light and fruit : a fruitful flame 
Chasing the Father's dimness, carried far 
From the first man in the East, to fresh and new 
Western discoveries of posterity. 
So in one word our Lord's humility 
We turn upon him in a sense most true : 
For what Christ once in humbleness began. 
We him in glory call, The Son of Man. 



A TRUE HYMN. 

B Y joy, my life, my crown ! 
© My heart was meaning all the day, 
| Somewhat it fain would say : 

J And still it runneth muttering up and down 
With only this, My Joy, my life, my crown ! 

Yet slight not these few words ; 
If truly said, they may take part 
1 Among the best in art. 

I The fineness which a Hymn or Psalm affords, 
Is, when the soul unto the lines accords. 



10 



182 



The Temple. 



pE who craves all the mind, 

And all the soul, and strength, and time, 
7i\\ If the words only rhyme, 

-■J Justly complains, that somewhat is behind 
To make his Verse, or write a Hymn in kind. 



fl 



Whereas if the heart be moved, 
Although the Verse be somewhat scant, 

God doth supply the want. 
As when the heart says (sighing to be approved), 
Ok, could I love / and stops ; God writeth, Loved. 20 







THE ANSWER. 



P Y comforts drop and melt away like snow : 
I shake my head, and all the thoughts and ends, 
Which my fierce youth did bandy, fall and 

flow 
Like leaves about me, or like summer 
friends, 

Flies of estates and sunshine. But to all, 
Who think me eager, hot, and undertaking, 
But in my prosecutions slack and small ; ? 

As a young exhalation, newly waking, 
Scorns his first bed of dirt, and means the sky ; 
But cooling by the way, grows pursy and slow, 
And settling to a cloud, doth live and die 
In that dark state of tears : to ail, that so 
Show me, and set me, I have one reply, 
Which they that know the rest, know more than 1. 14 



The Church. 



183 



A DIALOGUE-ANTHEM. 

CHRISTIAN, DEATH. 

Chr. J|\ LAS, poor Death ! where is thy glory 

JHL Where is thy famous force, thy ancient 
sting ? 

Dea. Alas ! poor mortal, void of story, 

Go spell and read how I have kilFd thy King. 

Chr. Poor Death ! and who was hurt thereby ? 5 
Thy curse being laid on him makes thee accurst. 

Dea. Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die; 
These arms shall crush thee. 

Chr. Spare not, do thy worst. 
I shall be one day better than before : 10 

Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more. 



THE WATER-COURSE. 

§^HOU who dost dwell and linger here below, 

v^P Since the condition of this world is frail, 

Where of all plants afflictions soonest grow ; 

If troubles overtake thee, do not wail : 

( Life ? 
For who can look for less that loveth ) q t -f ? 

But rather turn the pipe, and water's course 

To serve thy sins, and furnish thee with store 

Of sovereign tears, springing from true remorse : 

That so in pureness thou may'st him adore 

C Salvation. 
Who gives to man, as he sees fit, } Damnation 



10 




SELF-CONDEMNATION. 

jjf#HOU who condemnest Jewish hate, 
For choosing Barabbas a murderer 
Before the Lord of glory ; 
Look back upon thine own estate, 
Call home thine eye (that busy wanderer), 
That choice may be thy story. 



He that doth love, and love amiss, 

This world's delights before true Christian joy, 

Hath made a Jewish choice : 

The world an ancient murderer is ; 

Thousands of souls it hath and doth destroy 

With her enchanting voice. 






He that hath made a sorry wedding 
Between his soul and gold, and hath preferred 
False gain before the true, 
Hath done what he condemns in reading : 
For he hath sold for money his dear Lord, 

And is a Judas-Jew. 18 

Thus we prevent the last great day, 
And judge ourselves. That light which sin and passion 
Did before dim and choke, 
When once those snuffs are ta'en away, 
Shines bright and clear, even unto condemnation, 

Without excuse or cloak. 2i 



The Chicrch. 



185 



BITTER-SWEET. 

^» H, my dear angry Lord, 

Since thou dost love, yet strike ; 
Cast down, yet help afford ; 
Sure I will do the like. 



I will complain, yet praise ; 
i\\ I will bewail, approve : 

And all my sour-sweet days 
I will lament, and love. 




THE GLANCE. 

HEN first thy sweet and gracious eye 
Vouchsafed even in the midst of youth and nig 
To look upon me, who before did lie 
Weltering in sin ; 
I felt a sugar' d strange delight, 
Passing all Cordials made by any Art, 
Bedew, embalm, and overrun my heart, 
And take it in. 



Since that time many a bitter storm 
My soul hath felt, even able to destroy, 
Had the malicious and ill-meaning harm 
His swing and sway : 
But still thy sweet original joy, 
Sprung from thine eye, did work within my soul, 
And surging griefs, when they grew bold, control, 
And got the day. 



86 The Temple. 

^F thy first, glance so powerful be, 

jM, A mirth but open'd, and seal'd up again ; 

What wonders shall we feel, when we shall see 
Thy full-eyed love ! 
When thou shalt look us out of pain, 
And one aspect of thine spend in delight 
More than a thousand suns disburse in light, 
In Heaven above. 



24 




THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. 

THE God of love my shepherd is, 
And he that doth me feed : 
While he is mine, and I am his, 
What can I want or need ? 

He leads me to the tender grass, 
Where I both feed and rest ; 

Then to the streams that gently pass : 
In both I have the best. 

Or if I stray, he doth convert, 
And bring my mind in frame : 

And all this not for my desert, 
But for his holy name. 

Yea, in death's shady, black abode 
Well may I walk, not fear : 

For thou art with me, and thy rod 
To guide, thy staff to bear. 



16 



The Church. 

Yvt AY, thou dost make me sit and dine, 
1_M Even in my enemies' sight ; 

My head with oil, my cup with wine 
Runs over day and night. 

Surely thy sweet and wondrous love 
Shall measure all my days ; 

And as it never shall remove, 
So neither shall my praise. 



187 



24 




MARY MAGDALEN. 

^HEN blessed Mary wiped her Saviour's feet 
(Whose precepts she had trampled on before), 
And wore them for a Jewel on her head, 

Showing his steps should be the street, 

Wherein she thenceforth evermore 
With pensive humbleness would live and tread : 6 

She being stain'd herself, why did she strive 

To make him clean, who could not be defiled ? 

Why kept she not her tears for her own faults, 
And not his feet ? Though we could dive 
In tears like Seas, our sins are piled 

Deeper than they, in words, and works, and thoughts. 12 

Dear soul, she knew who did vouchsafe and deign 
To bear her filth : and that her sins did dash 



i88 



The Temple. 



Even God himself : wherefore she was not loath, 
As she had brought wherewith to stain, 
So to bring in wherewith to wash : 

And yet in washing one, she washed both. 




AARON. 

OLINESS on the head, 

Light and perfections on the breast, 

Harmonious bells below, raising the dead 
|^r ^ To lead them unto life and rest. 
Thus are true Aarons drest. 

Profaneness in my head, 
Defects and darkness in my breast, 
A noise of passions ringing me for dead 
Unto a place where is no rest : 

Poor Priest thus am I drest. 




Only another head 
I have, another heart and breast, 
Another music, making live, not dead, 
Without whom I could have no rest : 
In him I am well drest. 



Christ is my only head, 
My alone only heart and breast, 
My only music, striking me even dead ; 
That to the old man I may rest, 

And be in him new drest. 



The Church. 

So holy in my head, 
Perfect and light in my dear breast, 
My doctrine tuned by Christ (who is not dead, 
But lives in me while I do rest), 
Come, people ; Aaro?i's drest. 



189 



25 



THE ODOUR. 

2 Cor. ii. 

f^O W sweetly doth My Master sound ! My Master! 
A£ As ambergris leaves a rich scent 
Unto the taster : 
So do these words a sweet content, 
An Oriental fragrancy, My Master. 

With these all day I do perfume my mind, 
My mind even thrust into them both ; 

That I might find 
What Cordials make this curious broth, 

This broth of smells, that feeds and fats my mind, 10 

My Master^ shall I speak ? O that to thee 

My Servant were a little so, 
As flesh may be ; 

That these two words might creep and grow 
To some degree of spiciness to thee ! 15 

Then should the Pomander, which was before 
A speaking sweet, mend by reflection, 

And tell me more : 
For pardon of my imperfection 

Would warm and work it sweeter than before. 20 



190 The Temple. 

rOR when My Master ; which alone is sweet, 
And even in my unworthiness pleasing, 
Shall call and meet, 
My Servant, as thee not displeasing, 
That call is but the breathing of the sweet. 



25 




This breathing would with gains by sweetening me 
(As sweet things traffic when they meet) 

Return to thee. 
And so this new commerce and sweet 

Should all my life employ, and busy me. 



THE FOIL. 

7 F we could see below 

The sphere of virtue, and each shining grace, 

As plainly as that above doth show ; 
This were the better sky, the brighter place. 

God hath made stars the foil 
To set off virtues : griefs to set off sinning : 

Yet in this wretched world we toil, 
As if grief were not foul, nor virtue winning. 




THE FORERUNNERS. 

UHE Harbingers are come. See, see their mark ; 

; White is their colour, and behold my head. 

But must they have my brain ? must they dispark 
Those sparkling notions, which therein were bred ? 

Must dulness turn me to a clod ? 
Yet have they left me, Thou art still my God. 



Good men ye be, to leave me my best room, 
Even all my heart, and what is lodged there : 
I pass not, I, what of the rest become, 
So, Thou art still my God, be out of fear. 

He will be pleased with that ditty ! 
And if I please him, I write fine and witty. 



12 



Farewell, sweet phrases, lovely metaphors : 
But will ye leave me thus ? when ye before 
Of stews and brothels only knew the doors, 
Then did I wash you with my tears, and more, 
Brought you to Church well drest and clad : 
My God must have my best, even all I had. 18 

Lovely enchanting language, sugar-cane, 
Honey of roses, whither wilt thou fly ? 
Hath some fond lover 'ticed thee to thy bane ? 
And wilt thou leave the Church, and love a sty ? 

Fie, thou wilt soil thy broider'd coat, 
And hurt thyself, and him that sings the note. 24 



The Temple. 

JjET foolish lovers, if they will love dung, 
JEI\ With Canvas, not with Arras, clothe their shame : 

Let Folly speak in her own native tongue. 
z^^M True beauty dwells on high : ours is a flame 
But borrow'd thence to light us thither. 
!Ok Beauty. and beauteous words should go together, B0 

Yet if you go, I pass not ; take your way : 
For, Thou art still my God, is all that ye 
Perhaps with more embellishment can say. 
Go, birds of spring : let winter have his fee ; 

Let a bleak paleness chalk the door, 
So all within be livelier than before. 36 







THE ROSE. 

\RESS me not to take more pleasure 
In this world of sugar'd lies, 
And to use a larger measure 

Than my strict, yet welcome size. 

First, there is no pleasure here : 
Colour' d griefs indeed there are, 

Blushing woes, that look as clear, 
As if they could beauty spare. 

k 

i Or if such deceits there be, 

£p* Such delights I mean to say ; 

There are no such things to me, 
Who have pass'd my right away. 



The Church. 

> UT I will not much oppose 

Unto what you now advise : 
Only take this gentle Rose, 
And therein my answer lies. 



193 



16 



What is fairer than a rose ? 

What is sweeter ? yet it purgeth. 
Purgings enmity disclose, 

Enmity forbearance urgeth. 



If then all that worldlings prize 
Be contracted to a rose ; 

Sweetly there indeed it lies, 
But it biteth in the close. 



24 



£.2 



So this flower doth judge and sentence 
Worldly joys to be a scourge : 

For they all produce repentance, 
And repentance is a purge. 



But I health, not physic choose : 
Only though I you oppose, 

Say that fairly I refuse, 
For my answer is a rose. 





DISCIPLINE. 

HROW away thy rod, 

Throw away thy wrath : 

O my God, 
Take the gentle path. 

For my heart's desire 
Unto thine is bent : 

I aspire 
To a full consent. 

Not a word or look 
I affect to own, 

But by book, 
And thy book alone. 

Though I fail, I weep : 
Though I halt in pace, 

Yet I creep 
To the throne of grace. 

Then let wrath remove ; 
Love will do the deed : 

For with love 
Stony hearts will bleed. 

Love is swift of foot ; 
Love 's a man of war, 
And can shoot, 
And can hit from far. 



21 



The Church 195 

WHO can 'scape his bow ? 
That which wrought on thee, 
Brought thee low, 
Needs must work on me. 

Throw away thy rod ; 
Though man frailties hath, 

Thou art God : 
Throw away thy wrath. 32 



THE INVITATION. 

jjOME ye hither all, whose taste 

Is your waste ; 
Save your cost, and mend your fare. 
God is here prepared and dress' d, 
And the feast, 
<gp|. God, in whom all dainties are. 6 

Come ye hither all, whom wine 

Doth define, 
Naming you not to your good : 
Weep what ye have drunk amiss, 

And drink this, 
Which before ye drink is blood. 12 

Come ye hither all, whom pain 

Doth arraign, 
Bringing all your sins to sight : 
Taste and fear not : God is here 

In this cheer, 
And on sin doth cast the fright. 18 



196 The Temple. 

Come ye hither all, whom joy- 
Doth destroy, 

While ye graze without your bounds : 

Here is joy that drowneth quite 
Your delight, 

As a flood the lower grounds. 



24 



Come ye hither all, whose love 
Is your dove, 

And exalts you to the sky : 

Here is love, which, having breath 
Even in death, 

After death can never die. 

Lord, I have invited all, 

And I shall 
Still invite, still call to thee : 
For it seems but just and right 

In my sight, 
Where is all, there all should be. 



THE BANQUET. 

fe^fELCOME sweet and sacred cheer, 
xi^i Welcome dear ; 

With me, in me, live and dwell : 
For thy neatness passeth sight, 

Thy delight 
Passeth tongue to taste or tell. 



The Church. 197 

WHAT sweetness from the bowl 

Fills my soul, 
Such as is, and makes divine ! 
Is some star (fled from the sphere) 

Melted there, 
As we sugar melt in wine ? 12 

Or hath sweetness in the bread 

Made a head 
To subdue the smell of sin, 
Flowers, and gums, and powders giving 

All their living, 
Lest the enemy should win ? 18 

Doubtless, neither star nor flower 
&h£ Hath the power 

y\i Such a sweetness to impart : 

Only God, who gives perfumes, 
Flesh assumes, 

And with it perfumes my heart. u 

But as Pomanders and wood 

Still are good, 
Yet being bruised are better scented ; 
God, to show how far his love 

Could improve, 
Here, as broken, is presented. 



30 



When I had forgot my birth, 
And on earth 

In delights of earth was drown' d ; 

God took blood, and needs would be 
Spilt with me, 

And so found me on the ground. 



The Temple. 

RAVING raised me to look up, 
L In a cup 

Sweetly he doth meet my taste. 

But I still being low and short, 
Far from court, 

Wine becomes a wing at last. 



42 



For with it alone I fly 

To the sky : 

Where I wipe mine eyes, and see 

What I seek, for what I sue ; 
Him I view 

Who hath done so much for me. 



48 



Let the wonder of this pity 
Be my ditty, 

And take up my lines and life : 

Hearken under pain of death, 

Hands and breath, 

Strive in this, and love the strife. 



54 



THE POSY. 

' ET wits contest, 

And with their words and posies windows fill : 

Less than the least 
Of all thy mercies, is my posy still. 



This on my ring, 
This by my picture, in my book I write ; 

Whether I sing, 
Or say, or dictate, this is my delight. 



The Church. 



199 



Invention, rest ; 
Comparisons, go play ; wit, use thy will : 

Less than the least 
Of all God's mercies ', is my posy still. 



12 




A PARODY. 

joy, when thou art gone, 
And I alone, 
Which cannot be, 
Because thou dost abide in me, 
And I depend on thee ; 

when thou dost suppress 
The cheerfulness 
Of thy abode, 
in my powers not stir abroad, 
But leave me to my load : 

what a damp and shade 

Doth me invade ! 

No stormy night 
so afflict or so affright 
As thy eclipsed light 

Lord ! do not withdraw, 
Lest want of awe 
Make sin appear ; 
when thou dost but shine less clear, 
Say, that thou art not here. 



15 



no 



200 The Temple. 

And then what life I have, 
While Sin doth rave, 
And falsely boast, 

That I may seek, but thou art lost ! 
Thou and alone thou know'st. 

what a deadly cold 

Doth me infold ! 

I half believe, 
That Sin says true : but while I grieve, 
Thou com'st and dost relieve. 

THE ELIXIR. 

9£**EACH me, my God and King, 
V§J In all things thee to see, 
And what I do in any thing, 
To do it as for thee : 






J 



Not rudely, as a beast, 
To run into an action ; 
But still to make thee prepossest, 
And give it his perfection. 

A man that looks on glass, 
On it may stay his eye ; 
Or if he pleaseth, through it pass, 
And then the heaven espy. 

All may of thee partake : 
Nothing can be so mean, 
Which with this tincture {for thy sake) 
Will not grow bright and clean. 



The Church. 



201 



SERVANT with this clause 
Makes drudgery divine : 
Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, 
Makes that and th' action fine. 



This is the famous stone 
That turneth all to gold : 
For that which God doth touch and own 
Cannot for less be told. 



24 




A WREATH. 

WREATHED garland of deserved praise, 
Of praise deserved, unto thee I give, 
I give to thee, who knowest all my ways, 
My crooked winding ways, wherein I live, 
Wherein I die, not live ; for life is straight, 
Straight as a line, and ever tends to thee, 
To thee, who art more far above deceit, 
Than deceit seems above simplicity. 
Give me simplicity, that I may live, 
So live and like, that I may know thy ways, 
Know them and practise them : then shall I give 
For this poor wreath, give thee a crown of praise. 



12 





DEATH. 

If^EATH, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing, 
Nothing but bones, 
The sad effect of sadder groans : 
Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing. 



For we considered thee as at some six 
Or ten years hence, 
?.{j^!? After the loss of life and sense, 

Flesh being turn'd to dust, and bones to sticks. 

We look'd on this side of thee, shooting short ; 
Where we did find 
The shells of fledge souls left behind, 
Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort. 

But since our Saviour's death did put some blood 
Into thy face : 
Thou art grown fair and full of grace, 
Much in request, much sought for, as a good. 

For we do now behold thee gay and glad, 
As at doomsday ; 
When souls shall wear their new array, 
And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad. 

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust 
Half that we have 
Unto an honest faithful grave ; 
Making our pillows either down, or dust. 



16 



2i 



I 



The Church. 203 

DOOMSDAY. 



}/1 /f|OME away, 

f My} Make no delay. 



Summon all the dust to rise, 

Till it stir, and rub the eyes ; 

While this member jogs the other, 

Each one whispering, Live you, brother f 6 

Come away, 
Make this the day. 
Dust, alas ! no music feels, 
But thy trumpet : then it kneels, 
As peculiar notes and strains 
Cure Tarantula's raging pains. 12 

Come away, 
O make no stay ! 
Let the graves make their confession, 
Lest at length they plead possession : 
Flesh's stubbornness may have 
Read that lesson to the grave. 18 

Come away, 
Thy flock doth stray. 
Some to the winds their body lend, 
And in them many drown a friend : 
Some in noisome vapours grow 
To a plague and public woe. 2 * 

Come away, 
Help our decay. 
Man is out of order hurl'd, 
Parcell'd out to all the world. 
Lord, thy broken consort raise, 
And the music shall be praise. 30 




JUDGMENT. 

LMIGHTY Judge, how shall poor wretches brook 

Thy dreadful look, 
Able a heart of iron to appal, 

When thou shalt call 
For every man's peculiar book ? 

What others mean to do, I know not well ; 

Yet I hear tell, 
That some will turn thee to some leaves therein 

So void of sin, 
That they in merit shall excel. 10 



i 



But I resolve, when thou shalt call for mine, 

That to decline, 
And thrust a Testament into thy hand : 

Let that be scann'd. 
There thou shalt find my faults are thine. 



15 




The Church. 205 



HEAVEN. 

WHO will show me those delights on high ? 

Echo. /. 

Thou Echo, thou art mortal, all men know. 

Echo. No. 

Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves ? 5 

Echo. Leaves. 

And are there any leaves, that still abide ? 

Echo. Bide. 

What leaves are they ? impart the matter wholly. 

Echo. Holy. 10 

Are holy leaves the Echo then of bliss ? 

Echo. Yes. 

c ^ Then tell me, what is that supreme delight ? 

Echo. Light. 

Light to the mind : what shall the will enjoy ? 15 

Echo. Joy. 

But are there cares and business with the pleasure ? 

Echo. Leisure. 

Light, joy, and leisure ; but shall they persever ? 

Echo. Ever. 20 



LOVE. 

I? OVE bade me welcome ; yet my soul drew back, 
HA Guilty of dust and sin. 

fBut quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack 
From my first entrance in, 
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning, 

If I lack'd any thing. 6 



206 The Temple. 

^jjf GUEST, I answer' d, worthy to be here : 
Love said, You shall be he. 
I the unkind, ungrateful ? Ah, my dear, 

I cannot look on thee. 
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, 

Who made the eyes but I ? 12 

Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them : let my shame 

Go where it doth deserve. 
^jU And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame ? 

My dear, then I will serve. 
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat : 

So I did sit and eat. 18 



FINIS. 

Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace, 
good-will towards men. 




THE CHURCH MILITANT. 



\ LMIGHTY Lord, who from thy glorious throne 
Seest and rulest all things ev'n as one : 
The smallest Ant or Atom knows thy power, 
Known also to each minute of an hour : 
Much more do Commonweals acknowledge thee, 5 
And wrap thy policies in thy decree, 
Complying with thy counsels, doing naught 
Which doth not meet with an eternal thought. 
But above all, thy Church and Spouse doth prove 
Not the decrees of power, but bands of love. 10 

Early didst thou arise to plant this Vine, 
Which might the more endear it to be thine. 
Spices come from the East ; so did thy Spouse, 
Trim as the light, sweet as the laden boughs 
Of Noah's shady vine, chaste as the dove, 15 

Prepared and fitted to receive thy love. 
The course was westward, that the sun might light 
As well our understanding as our sight. 
Where th' Ark did rest, there Abraham began 
To bring the other Ark from Candan. 20 

Moses pursued this : but King Solomon 
Finish'd and fix'd the old religion. 



2o8 The Church Militant. 



«** 4 



When it grew loose, the Jews did hope in vain 

By nailing Christ to fasten it again. 

But to the Gentiles he bore cross and all, 25 

Rending with earthquakes the partition-wall. 

Only whereas the Ark in glory shone, 

Now with the cross, as with a staff, alone, 

Religion, like a pilgrim, westward bent, 

Knocking at all doors, ever as she went. 

Yet as the Sun, though forward be his flight, 

Listens behind him, and allows some light, 

Till all depart : so went the Church her way, 

Letting, while one foot stepp'd, the other stay 

Among the eastern nations for a time, 35 

Till both removed to the western clime. 

To Egypt first she came, where they did prove 

Wonders of anger once, but now of love. 

The ten Commandments there did flourish more 

Than the ten bitter plagues had done before. 40 

Holy Macarius and great Anthony 

Made Pharaoh Moses, changing the history. 

Goshen was darkness, Egypt full of lights, 

Nilus for monsters brought forth Israelites. 

Such power hath mighty Baptism to produce, 46 

For things misshapen, things of highest use. 

How dear to me, O God, thy counsels are ! 

Who may with thee compare f 
Religion thence fled into Greece, where Arts 
Gave her the highest place in all men's hearts. 
Learning was posed, Philosophy was set, 
Sophisters taken in a Fisher's net. 
Plato and Aristotle were at a loss, 
And wheel' d about again to spell Christ s-Cross. 
Prayers chased syllogisms into their den, 
And Ergo was transform' d into Amen, 



50 



55 



The Church Militant. 209 

JHOUGH Greece took horse as soon as Egypt did, 
And Rome as both ; yet Egypt faster rid, 
And spent her period and prefixed time 
Before the other. Greece being past her prime, 60 
Religion went to Rome, subduing those, 
Who, that they might subdue, made all their foes. 
The Warrior his dear scars no more resounds, 
But seems to yield Christ hath the greater wounds ; 
Wounds willingly endured to work his bliss, 66 

Who by an ambush lost his Paradise. 
The great heart stoops, and taketh from the dust 
A sad repentance, not the spoils of lust : 
Quitting his spear, lest it should pierce again 
Him in his members, who for him was slain. 
The Shepherd's hook grew to a Sceptre here, 
Giving new names and numbers to the year. 
But th' Empire dwelt in Greece, to comfort them, 
Who were cut short in Alexander's stem. 
In both of these Prowess and Arts did tame 75 

And tune men's hearts against the Gospel came : 
Which using, and not fearing skill in th' one, 
Or strength in th' other, did erect her throne. 
Many a rent and struggling th' Empire knew 
(As dying things are wont), until it flew 80 

At length to Germany, still westward bending, 
And there the Church's festival attending : 
That as before Empire and Arts made way 
(For no less harbingers would serve than they), 
So they might still, and point us out the place, 85 
Where first the Church should raise her downcast face. 
Strength levels grounds, Art makes a garden there ; 
Then showers Religion, and makes all to bear. 
Spain in the Empire shared with Germany, 
"Bui. England in the higher victory ; 90 

O 



i io The Church Militant. 

Giving the Church a crown to keep her state, 
And not go less than she had done of late. 
JL Constantino s British line meant this of old, 
yXjt And did this mystery wrap up and fold 
M^ Within a sheet of paper, which was rent 95 

Sgn From Time's great Chronicle, and hither sent. 
Hp Thus both the Church and Sun together ran 
Unto the farthest old meridian. 
How dear to me, O God, thy counsels are ! 

Who may with thee co7npare ? 10 ° 
Much about one and the same time and place, 
Both where and when the Church began her race, 
Sin did set out of Eastern Babylon, 
And travell'd westward also : journeying on 
He chid the Church away, where'er he came, 
Breaking her peace, and tainting her good name. 
At first he got to Egypt, and did sow 
Gardens of gods, which every year did grow, 
Fresh and fine deities. They were at great cost, 
Who for a god clearly a sallet lost. 110 

Ah, what a thing is man devoid of grace, 
Adoring Garlic with an humble face, 
Begging his food of that which he may eat, 
Starving the while he worshippeth his meat ! 
Who makes a root his god, how low is he, 115 

If God and man be sever' d infinitely ! 
What wretchedness can give him any room, 
Whose house is foul, while he adores his broom ? 
None will believe this now, though money be 
In us the same transplanted foolery. 120 

Thus Sin in Egypt sneaked for a while ; 
His highest was an ox or crocodile, 
And such poor game. Thence he to Greece doth pass, 
And being craftier much than Goodness was, 



The Church Militant. 2 1 1 

ME left behind him garrisons of sins, 125 

To make good that which every day he wins. 
Here Sin took heart, and for a garden-bed 
Rich shrines and oracles he purchased : 
He grew a gallant, and would needs foretell 
As well what should befall, as what befell. 13 ° 

Nay, he became a Poet, and would serve 
His pills of sublimate in that conserve. 
The world came both with hands and purses full 
To this great lottery, and all would pull. 
But all was glorious cheating, brave deceit, 135 

Where some poor truths were shuffled for a bait 
To credit him, and to discredit those, 
Who after him should braver truths disclose. 
From Greece he went to Rome : and as before 
He was a God, now he's an Emperor. uo 

Nero and others lodged him bravely there, 
Put him in trust to rule the Roman sphere. 
Glory was his chief instrument of old : 
Pleasure succeeded straight, when that grew cold : 
Which soon was blown to such a mighty flame, U5 
That though our Saviour did destroy the game, 
Disparking oracles, and all their treasure, 
Setting affliction to encounter pleasure ; 
Yet did a rogue with hope of carnal joy, 
Cheat the most subtle nations. Who so coy, 150 

So trim, as Greece and Egyyt ? yet their hearts 
Are given over, for their curious arts, 
To such Mahometan stupidities, 
As the old Heathen would deem prodigies. 
How dear to me y O God, thy counsels are ! 165 

Who may with thee compare? 
Only the West and Rome do keep them free 
From this contagious infidelity. 



212 The Church Militant. 

M ND this is all the Rock, whereof they boast, 

a As Rome will one day find unto her cost. 160 

wj Sin not being able to extirpate quite 

W The Churches here, bravely resolved one night 

ygfo To be a Churchman too, and wear a Mitre : 

tffk The old debauched Ruffian would turn writer. 

j| I saw him in his study, where he sate 165 

III Busy in controversies sprung of late. 

▼ A gown and pen became him wondrous well : 
lUf His grave aspect had more of heaven than hell : 
^|P Only there was a handsome picture by, 

^|L To which he lent the corner of his eye. 170 

dgjjA As Sin in Greece a Prophet was before, 

\ And in old Rome a mighty Emperor ; 

2|J So now being Priest, he plainly did profess 

ft To make a jest of Christ's three Offices : 

A^ The rather since his scatter'd jugglings were 1T5 

4j£jl United now in one both time and sphere. 

a From Egypt he took petty deities, 

S From Greece oracular infallibilities, 

▼ And from old Rome the liberty of pleasure, 

^§ By free dispensings of the Church's treasure. 18 ° 

^jffc Then in memorial of his ancient throne, 

djL He did surname his palace, Babylon. 

^^ Yet that he might the better gain all nations, 

g And make that name good by their transmigrations ; 

W$ From all these places, but at divers times, 185 

fi He took fine vizards to conceal his crimes : 

Jjkm From Egypt Anchorism and retiredness, 

4|gl Learning from Greece, from old Rome stateliness ; 

fAnd blending these, he carried all men's eyes, 
While Truth sat by, counting his victories : 190 

Whereby he grew apace and scorn'd to use 
Such force as once did captivate the Jews ; 



The Church Militant. 213 

But did bewitch, and finally work each nation 

Into a voluntary transmigration. 

All post to Rome : Princes submit their necks 195 

Either to his public foot or private tricks. 

It did not fit his gravity to stir, 

Nor his long journey, nor his gout and fur : 

Therefore he sent out able Ministers, 

Statesmen within, without doors Cloisterers ; ■ 200 

Who without spear, or sword, or other drum 

Than what was in their tongue, did overcome ; 

And having conquer' d, did so strangely rule, 

That the whole world did seem but the Pope's mule. 

As new and old Rome did one empire twist ; 205 

So both together are one Antichrist ; 

Yet with two faces, as their Janus was, 

Being in this their old crack'd looking-glass. 

How dear to me, O God, thy counsels are / 

Who may with thee compare f 210 
HUS Sin triumphs in Western Babylon; 
Yet not as Sin, but as Religion. 
Of his two thrones he made the latter best, 
And to defray his journey from the East. 
Old and new Babylon are to hell and night, 215 

As is the Moon and Sun to Heaven and light. 
When th' one did set, the other did take place, 
Confronting equally the Law and Grace. 
' They are hell's landmarks, Satan's double crest : 
^5 They are Sin's nipples, feeding th' east and west. 22 ° 
But as in vice the Copy still exceeds 
The pattern, but not so in virtuous deeds ; 
So though Sin made his latter seat the better, 
The latter Church is to the first a debtor. 
The second Temple could not reach the first : 226 
And the late reformation never durst 



214 The Church Militant. 

Compare with ancient times and purer years ; 

But in the Jews and us deserve th tears ; 

Nay, it shall every year decrease and fade ; 

Till such a darkness do the world invade 

At Christ's last coming, as his first did find : 

Yet must there such proportions be assign'd 

To these diminishings, as is between 

The spacious world and Jewry to be seen. 

Religion stands on tiptoe in our land, 

Ready to pass to the American strand. 

When height of malice, and prodigious lusts, 

Impudent sinning, witchcrafts, and distrusts, 

(The marks of future bane), shall fill our cup 

Unto the brim, and make our measure up ; - 4(l 

When Seine shall swallow Tiber, and the Thames, 

By letting in them both, pollutes her streams : 

When Italy of us shall have her will, 

And all her Calendar of sins fulfil ; 

Whereby one may foretell, what sins next year 245 

Shall both in France and England domineer : 

Then shall Religion to America flee : 

They have their times of Gospel, even as we. 

My God, thou dost prepare for them a way, 

By carrying first their gold from them away : 

For gold and grace did never yet agree : 

Religion always sides with poverty. 

We think we rob them, but we think amiss : 

We are more poor, and they more rich, by this. 

Thou wilt revenge their quarrel, making grace 255 

To pay our debts, and leave our ancient place 

To go to them, while that, which now their nation 

But lends to us, shall be our desolation. 

Yet as the Church shall thither westward fly, 

So Sin shall trace and dog her instantly : 



The Church Militant. 215 

JHEY have their period also and set times 
Both for their virtuous actions and their crimes. 
And where of old the Empire and the Arts 
Usher'd the Gospel ever in men's hearts, 
Spain hath done one ; when Arts perform the other, 265 
The Church shall come, and Sin the Church shall 

smother : 
That when they have accomplished the round, 
And met in th' East their first and ancient sound, 
Judgment may meet them both, and search them 

round. 
Thus do both lights, as well in Church as Sun, 270 
Light one another, and together run. 
Thus also Sin and Darkness follow still 
The Church and Sun with all their power and skill. 
But as the Sun still goes both West and East : 
So also did the Church by going West 275 

Still Eastward go ; because it drew more near 
To time and place, where judgment shall appear, 
How dear' to nie, O God> thy counsels are! 

Who 7nay with thee compare f 279 







216 The Church Militant. 



L'ENVOY. 

King of glory ) Ki?ig of peace. 
With the one make war to cease ; 
With the other bless thy sheep, 
Thee to love, in thee to sleep. 
Let not Sin devour thy fold, 
Bragging that thy blood is cold ; 
That thy death is also dead, 
While his conquests daily spread ; 
That thy flesh hath lost his food. 
1 ^ \ And thy Cross is common wood. 

Choke him, let him say no more, 
But reserve his breath in store, 
Till thy conquest and his fall 
Make his sighs to use it all ; 
And then bargain with the wind 
To discharge what is behind. 



Blessed be God alone, 

Thrice blessed Three in One. 18 





MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



A SONNET, 




SENT BY GEORGE HERBERT TO HIS MOTHER AS A NEW 
YEAR'S GIFT FROM CAMBRIDGE. 

Y God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, 

Wherewith whole shoals of Martyrs once did burn, 
Besides their other flames ? Doth poetry 

Wear Venus' livery ? only serve her turn ? 
Why are not sonnets made of thee ? and lays 

Upon thine altar burnt ? Cannot thy love 
Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise 

As well as any she ? Cannot thy Dove 
Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight ? 

Or, since thy ways are deep, and still the same, 

Will not a verse run smooth that bears thy name ? 
Why doth that fire, which by thy power and might 

Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose 

Than that which, one day, worms may chance refuse ? 
Sure, Lord, there is enough in thee to dry 

Oceans of ink ; for, as the Deluge did 16 

Cover the earth, so doth thy Majesty : 

Each cloud distils thy praise, and doth forbid 



21} 



Miscellaneous Poems. 



)OETS to turn it to another use. 

Roses and lilies speak thee ; and to make 
A pair of cheeks of them, is thy abuse. 

Why should I women's eyes for crystal take ? 
Such poor invention burns in their low mind 

Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go 

To praise, and on thee, Lord, some ink bestow. 
Open the bones, and you shall nothing find 

In the best face but filth ; when, Lord, in thee 

The beauty lies, in the discovery. 



2i 



A PARADOX. 

(FROM A MS. COLLECTION, FORMERLY DR RAWLINSON's, IN THE 
BODLEIAN LIBRARY, OXFORD.) 

THAT THE SICK ARE IN A BETTER CASE THAN THE WHOLE. 

TOU who admire yourselves because 
You neither groan nor weep, 
^S7 And think it contrary to Nature's laws 
,. ^rllr T° want one ounce of sleep, 

Your strong belief 
Acquits yourselves, and gives the sick all grief. 6 * 



Your state to ours is contrary, 
That makes you think us poor, 
So Black-moors think us foul, and we 
Are quit with them, and more : 
Nothing can see, 
And judge of things but mediocrity. 



12 



Miscellaneous Poems. 



219 



The sick are in themselves a state 
Which health hath naught to do. 
How know you that our tears proceed from woe, 
And not from better fate ? 

Since that mirth hath 
Her waters also and desired bath. 18 



How know you that the sighs we send 
From want of breath proceed, 
Not from excess ? and therefore we do spend 
That which we do not need ; 
So trembling may 
As well show inward warbling, as decay. 



24 



Cease then to judge calamities 
By outward form and show, 
But view yourselves, and inward turn your eyes, 
Then you shall fully know 
That your estate 
)\ Is, of the two, the far more desperate. 30 

You always fear to feel those smarts 

Which we but sometimes prove, 

Each little comfort much affects our hearts, 

None but gross joys you move : 

Why then confess 

Your fears in number more, your joys are less ? 36 



Then for yourselves not us embrace 
Plaints to bad fortune due, 
For though you visit us, and plaint our case, 
We doubt much whether you 
Come to our bed 
To comfort us, or to be comforted. 



It 



42 



INSCRIPTION. 

IN THE PARSONAGE, BEMERTON. TO MY SUCCESSOR. 

*F thou chance for to find 

A new House to thy mind 
And built without thy cost : 
Be good to the poor, 
As God gives thee store, 
And then my labour's not lost. 



ON LORD DANVERS. 

ACRED marble, safely keep 

His dust, who under thee must sleep, 
Until the years again restore 
Their dead, and time shall be no more. 
Meanwhile, if he (which all things wears) 
Does ruin thee, or if thy tears 
Are shed for him ; dissolve thy frame, 
Thou art requited ; for his fame, 
His virtue, and his worth shall be 
Another monument to thee. 





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

Mill! in mi mi 



II II 



014 151 015 • 



